Stonewall High
by SpitefulPixiDust
Summary: When Harry Potter moves to America with his abusive relatives, can his charming nature break through a snobbish Draco Malfoy's defenses? AU, HPDM, rated R for future swearing, abuse, smoking, and general...stuff. DISCONTINUED.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: I so don't own Harry Potter and company...**

Hermione Granger frowned, staring down at the chemistry essay she had just completed. Was it good enough? It was two pages longer than what was required, but she wanted it to be perfect and wasn't sure if it was. She glanced through her notes again, and found nothing she could add. Sighing, she tidied the papers and filed them away in her notebook. She stood up and stretched, pushing futilely at her bushy hair, before wandering downstairs to fix herself a sandwich.

In the kitchen, she sat down at a stool by the counter and ate slowly, mind wandering. Hermione was not popular—far from it, in fact. Boys and girls alike avoided her, intimidated by her intelligence and involvement in school. She knew she would never be beautiful, perhaps not even pretty, and the thought haunted her constantly. Her hair was a dull brown, fluffy and always tangled; her eyes were likewise brown and timid, and her teeth were too big for her mouth. She had given up on her appearance years ago, and dressed in non-descript clothes that helped her blend into the crowd and didn't define her body. She wished that just once—just _once_—someone would look beyond her appearance and see her for who she really was.

Hermione was brought out of her musings by the shout that drifted through the open kitchen window.

"_Boy!_ _Come unload this luggage! We're going out, and it had bloody well better be done by the time we get back! You have three hours!"_

Curious, Hermione got up and looked out the window. Next door, a beefy, red-faced blonde man sporting a thick mustache was just climbing into a white sedan. There was a thin woman in the passenger seat and what appeared to be a small whale of a boy in the back. The car pulled out and disappeared down the street. A moment later, the front door of the house opened and a head emerged cautiously, quickly followed by a body. Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth parted in surprise.

The boy was quite unlike anything she'd ever seen in the small town of Pettigrew. His hair was semi-long and shaggy in a cute just-woke-up sort of way, pitch-black with vibrant green tips. It obscured most of his face, but Hermione could have sworn she saw the glint of piercings in the afternoon sunlight. He was slender, but well-muscled, which was made obvious by his tight black t-shirt and slim hip-huggers. He clumped down the driveway in heavy combat boots that cinched just below his knees. Brightly colored bracelets and gleaming spikes decorated both arms. Hermione watched, fascinated, as he trotted up to the moving van parked on the side of the street and climbed in.

He appeared again a few seconds later, laden with suitcases, and disappeared into the house.

This process repeated itself several times for nearly an hour. She watched the whole time, and felt the foolish hope she always felt when a new kid moved into the neighborhood: Would this boy be her friend? Her boyfriend? Would he look at her and see a sweet, shy girl that needed just a little push to become open and talkative? Scowling, she shook her head, willing her loneliness down. It never happened, no matter how many times someone new came around. The other kids always got to them first, became friends with them, and left her to herself. It would always be the same.

Just as she was about to move away from the window—perhaps she would go upstairs and look over that chemistry essay, one more time—the boy came outside again. Despite herself, she watched again as he went to the moving van and looked in. Shaking his head with what looked like relief, he turned to go inside; but suddenly, his head turned to the side, and he was looking directly at her. He grinned and gave her a cheery wave.

Gasping, mortified, Hermione jerked away, out of view. She leaned against the counter and put her face in her hands, blushing hotly. He had seen her, staring out at him like some sort of pervert! Irrationally, she felt like crying. Why did she always have to ruin everything? He was probably freaked out and had only waved to be polite, and when school came around on Monday, the new kid would tell everyone how he had caught the quiet, bookish loser ogling him like a piece of meat. Hermione groaned.

She nearly shrieked when the doorbell rang. Shaking a little and feeling impossibly foolish, she went to answer it, taking a moment to compose herself before opening the door, ready to tell the solicitor that she didn't want to buy whatever it was.

The boy was standing there, smiling a little, hands in his pockets. "Hallo," he said in a strong English accent. "I'm Harry Potter, your new neighbor."

Hermione gaped stupidly at him.

The silence stretched out and grew awkward. Harry's smile began to fade, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Errm…well, then. Yes. I'll be seeing you around, I suppose," he fumbled, and turned sharply to leave.

"No!" Hermione cried, louder than she'd intended. She felt the blush rise in her face again as he turned to her, surprised. "I mean, I-I'm sorry. Please, I don't mean to be rude. M-my name's Hermione, Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you…Harry." Uncertainly, Hermione offered her hand. The boy named Harry grinned again and shook it firmly.

Up close, he was even more alluring than he'd been at a distance. She'd been right about the piercings. One entire ear was crowded with silver loops from top to bottom, and his full bottom lip had a small ring through the center of it the same color as the tips of his hair. Metal also glinted at his right eyebrow. His eyes were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen—an emerald brighter than even his hair, almost unnaturally. She wondered if they were contacts. The bones of his face were delicate, almost feminine, and very attractive. She tried not to stare and had the feeling she was failing miserably.

"I-uhh-so…" Hermione gave up, face flaming, and looked down at her feet.

Luckily, Harry took up the slack quickly. "Do you go to the school around here? Stonewall, isn't it? I'll be starting Monday, going into eleventh grade."

"Me, too!" she replied eagerly. "I-I mean, yeah, I'm in eleventh at Stonewall. Are…are you looking forward to it? Going to a new school and all, I mean? You're from England, I take it? Your…your accent, I just assumed…" _Shut up, shut up, shut UP, you idiot!_ She couldn't seem to stop acting like a bumbling fool.

Harry didn't seem to notice. "My relatives and I come from Surrey. My uncle's company transferred him to America, and to be honest, I'm not too happy about it. I had a lot of friends in England, you know? People who…people who looked like me. I get the feeling I'm going to stick out quite badly here."

"Oh, no, I'm sure you'll be fine!" she assured him. He grinned, and she blushed again.

"Hey, I was wondering—you wanna show me around? If it's not any trouble," he added quickly. "It's just my relatives won't be back for another two hours or so, and if you're not doing anything…"

Hermione reeled with shock. Someone was asking her…to go somewhere public with them? To…to hang out with them? Without thinking about it, she opened her mouth and heard herself say, "I'd love to."

Harry gave a delighted whoop and did something with his mouth that made him click. Seeing Hermione's curious look, he stuck out his tongue and she saw the stud that pierced it. She had thought it wasn't possible to blush any harder than she had been already—she was wrong.

"Do you want to take my car?" she asked, trying to cover up her embarrassment. It worked, as Harry looked at her in surprise.

"You have a car? Your own _car_? Well, bloody hell, let's take the _car_!" He laughed at his own enthusiasm. "I have to use my skateboard to get everywhere, and though I love it, it gets kinda old sometimes, you know?" Hermione nodded, though she didn't know; her parents had bought her a brand-new Jeep Wrangler for her fifteenth birthday, long before she could even drive, as a reward for continuously wonderful grades.

"Well, come on then!" Harry urged, dancing from foot to foot. Hermione giggled, and the sound was foreign in her mouth; it had been so long since she'd genuinely laughed.

"Alright, let me get my purse," she agreed. "Come in for a moment?" More foreign syllables had issued from her mouth. She'd never had friends to invite in. Harry thought nothing of it, however, and bounded inside. The boy was a bundle of energy.

She showed him to the living room and practically ran to her room, giddy and nervous and feeling absolutely wonderful. She got her purse. When she returned, she found Harry looking with interest at a recent photo of her mother and father. He turned to face her when she entered the room. "This is your mum?" he asked, replacing the picture. Hermione nodded, and Harry smiled—he seemed to do that quite a lot, and he had an infectious smile. "I can see where you get your beauty," he told her.

Hermione was speechless. Beauty? Her? She opened her mouth, unsure of what to say, but Harry was already at the door, urging her to come along.

Still helplessly silent, she followed him out to the Jeep. When she started the car, he immediately began fiddling with the radio controls, and found a hard rock station he seemed to adore. "I _love_ American music!" he howled over the bass.

Hermione grinned and pulled out of the driveway, unable to believe how the day was turning out.

**A/N: I know this sounds like some sort of sappy Harry/Hermione hetero fic, but I promise you, it's NOT. I think Draco will be making an appearance next chapter, in town, and Hermione will find out that Harry is quite flaming ...please review, even though I seem to be having a little trouble figuring this whole updating and editing thing out...email me if you don't hear more in the coming days and give me a little help, FanFic veterans! Please...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Okay, so here's chapter 2, and even though I know I was supposed to put some serious Draco in here...I didn't. Oh, don't worry, he's there! Just...towards the end. This was sort of the whole "gasp-Harry's-gay??" chapter. And I'm sure the next one will be something along the lines of the "gasp-it's-Draco-and-he's-bloody-gorgeous-and-quite-the-jerk!" chapter. Thank you all for reviewing. (I was terrifed no one would because I'm wiener.)**

"So where does everyone hang out around here?" Harry asked, looking out at the shops they passed.

Hermione shrugged. "Umm…well, I guess mostly at the Java Hut. I wouldn't know," she admitted, suddenly shy again. "I don't get out much."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "Well, if you're going to hang out with me, that'll have to change," he told her firmly. "I'm out whenever I can manage it." He clicked his tongue ring against his teeth. "How about we go to this Java Hut, then? I've got a couple bucks, my treat."

Hermione nodded, inwardly hesitant. What if there were kids from school there? What if they took Harry away from her? _Stop it_, she told herself. _You're being selfish and clingy…_But the worry remained.

She parked the Jeep on the side of the street and led Harry to a small, busy café a block away. The sign was neon and lit, even in the middle of the day, spelling out the name of the coffee shop in spiky, sharp letters. Tables outside were practically full as people took advantage of the pleasant day.

They went inside and got their coffees, and, on Harry's insistence, went back outside and found a small table in the shade to sit at. Hermione watched as Harry downed half his latte in one gulp and then rummaged around in his hip pocket. "So tell me about yourself, Mione," he said conversationally, not finding what he wanted and beginning the search in another pocket. Hermione felt a rush of delight at the nickname that only her parents called her.

"Myself?" she repeated. Her gaze drifted to the people around her. "Well, I'm an only child. My mom and dad tried to have another, but then my mom found out she couldn't. I, uhh, like to read…and…uhh…" She trailed off, at a loss. She knew she wasn't a very interesting person. "I don't have a lot of friends," she confessed quietly after a few beats of silence. She glanced at Harry apprehensively, and was startled to find him smiling softly at her.

"I can already tell we're going to be great friends," Harry said, and then he shrieked, "_Aha!_" causing several people at nearby tables to jump. He held up a rumpled pack of Newports. "Don't mind, do you?" he asked her charmingly, and lit up without waiting for a response. Hermione had never known anyone who smoked. The little curls of grey that slipped through Harry's nostrils made him look a bit like a dragon, and she had to bite back a giggle at the thought.

"You seem to be a tad reluctant to talk about yourself, so I'll talk about my favorite subject—me!" Harry smiled at his own joke, and Hermione laughed. Harry shifted on the hard, wrought-iron chair, managing, somehow, to make it look like a Lazy Boy recliner, and took a drag on his cigarette. "My name's Harry James Potter, I'm 17, 6'1", I like soccer, piercings, metal, techno, and punk music, I streak my hair a different color every two or three weeks, I've been smoking for four years, drinking for two, having sex for three, I do rather poorly in school but try my damnest, I love people and socializing at parties, and I am currently single."

_Single_, Hermione thought, ignoring everything else but that last part. But before she could fully process the idea, the next words to come out of his mouth shattered every hope of a boyfriend she could possibly have:

"Oh, and I'm gay."

"You're _what?_" she blurted before she could stop herself.

A small flicker of doubt marred his face for a moment, gone as quickly as it appeared. "I'm gay," he repeated helpfully. "You know? I like guys? As opposed to girls? You aren't…you know, homophobic, are you? I just thought…well, anyway, it's how I am, and if there's going to be a problem…"

"No, no," Hermione assured him miserably. "No problem, I just didn't expect it. You…you told me I was beautiful."

Understanding dawned. "Oh, Mione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. You _are_ beautiful. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I can't appreciate a pretty girl."

Somehow, that made Hermione feel better. Okay, so this wasn't her future and first boyfriend; but he thought she was lovely, and he was a great guy. Relieved, she smiled at him. "No harm done, and thanks. For telling me I was beautiful, I mean, and for being honest with me." She sipped her coffee, breathing in the aroma.

Harry seemed equally relieved. "Ah, Mione, perhaps I _will_ like it around here. Bit different from Surrey, but I think—"

"Well, well, well," a drawling voice interrupted. "Looks like Granger finally got herself a boyfriend."

Hermione blushed fiercely, and turned to look up at the boy standing next to their table reproachfully. Harry glanced up, too, a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips, ready to defend his new friend…

…and felt his heart stutter to a halt.

**Another A/N: Hopefully, the next chapter will be coming up soon. You'll have to forgive me if I lag, however, because I have a lot of midterms to be doing in the next two or three days. I was a complete fool to take college courses in high school....**

**For my reviewers:**

**madam-malicia: Heh, thank you! And I will try so hard not to start neglecting my duties. **

**Bibilien: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. I did my best. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Hannah Abby: I like timid!Hermione, don't you? I've been trying to decide whether Harry should help her out a little, appearance-wise. She could be adorable!punky!Hermione...what do you think?**

**oracale: Why, thank you!**

**asphixiation1013: I know, I went back and edited the first chapter, to add an author's note saying that while I knew it looked like it was headed that way, it wasn't. I'm so glad you liked it! Do keep reviewing.**

**Flame-OF-Ciara: Punkish Harry will probably be involved in all my future fics! I love him. Thanks for reviewing!**

**magic-shield: A keeper? Really? heart flutters Thank you so much!**

**DeathzBeauty: Well, here you go! I hope you liked it as much as the first!**

**fudgebaby: Wow, thank you. I'm such a sap for reviews **

**sarah-928: Yours is possibly the greatest review I've gotten so far. Thanks so much!**

**Twilight347: I'll update whenever I can. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Raven's Light: Thank you, and I certainly will.**

**feshnie: Well, there's a teensy tiny bit of Draco in this chapter, and certainly much more in the next. The reason I've given poor Harry more piercings than a pin cushion is that I, myself, adore piercings and have several, with more to come. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Cherry0214: Oh, I love your stories! I've read several, but I haven't seen one ofyourslike this yet. Trust me, though, as soon as I'm done thanking everyone for their kind words, I'll be looking it up! You're a fantastic writer, and I'm honored that you gave me a review!**

**Alright, guys, that's it. And though this probably seems horrifically repetitive...THANK YOU ALL! Updates soon (hopefully).**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ta da, Draco! I've been doing some pretty speedy updates, huh?**

Draco Malfoy gave the boy sitting with Hermione Granger a disdainful look, easily hiding his fascination. The boy had more holes in him than a pin cushion, outrageously colored hair…and was that a thin line of mascara around his eyes? Draco decided it was. He tried not to stare at the strange boy for too long, all too aware of the impossible green of his irises.

He'd expected Granger to blush, but he hadn't expected her to be glaring at him in such an obvious way. Apparently, she had more backbone than he'd thought.

"Well?" he prodded when neither responded to him. "_Is_ this your boyfriend, Granger?" He sneered, and behind him, his friends chuckled.

Granger opened her mouth, though whether to gape indignantly or say something stupid he didn't know, because the boy spoke first.

"Far from it," he said. Draco's heart gave a little thump at the unexpected, beautifully cultured English accent. The boy stuck out a hand, and the chipped blue remnants of nail polish gleamed in the sunlight. "I'm Harry Potter. New here. And you are…?"

Draco ignored the out thrust hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy, not that it's any of your business. And it's quite obvious, _Potter_, that you're new around here. We haven't got anyone who looks like you in this town." Waiting for the offended glare, he was surprised when Potter just grinned happily at him.

"What can I say? I'm unique. Maybe I'll start a fashion trend."

For a moment, Draco was at a loss for words. He stared down at the boy and tried to formulate a response, recovering quickly.

"Whatever." Flicking his hair out of his eyes, Draco dismissed the conversation as not worthy of having. "Anyway, I didn't come over to chat, just to see if Hermit Hermione actually had a boyfriend. Should've known she didn't. After all, hell hasn't frozen over yet." Turning on his heel, gesturing for Blaise, Millicent, and Pansy to follow, he started to enter the Java Hut.

"Malfoy," came the British voice from behind him conversationally. Draco glanced over his shoulder and raised one brow regally in question. Harry smiled at him a little, taking a pull from his cigarette.

"You'd do well not to insult Hermione in my presence ever again. I'm quite protective of my friends, and I'll not have it. Insult me all you want—really, I don't mind. But not Hermione. Not ever. Or there will be consequences." Harry's expression remained pleasant, but his smile didn't reach his eyes anymore. The previously bright emerald had darkened to a green so clouded it was almost black. And they were so cold, almost dead.

For the second time in as many minutes, Draco Malfoy, who always had a snappy comeback, found he had nothing to say. Shivering, he stalked into the café, friends not far behind.

Hermione couldn't look away from the darkness in Harry's eyes. Hypnotic, dangerously so, the cold veneer was something she had never expected to see from one so friendly, and yet, he had adopted it quickly, naturally.

But as he turned to look at her, the threat left his face as quickly as it had come. The laughing, sweet Harry came back and smiled at her. "Wow," he murmured, tilting his head in the direction Malfoy had left. "Now that's a gorgeous bloke if I've ever seen one."

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh, Harry, you can't be serious! He's such a prick!"

Harry shrugged and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Ah, but bloody stunning, and he damn well knows it. I wonder…" and here he trailed off.

Hermione picked up on his train of thought immediately. "Harry, _no_," she hissed in a horrified whisper. "He's got a girlfriend, and could you really go for such an ass?"

Harry smirked. "In a heartbeat, love. In a heartbeat."

She shook her head and dropped the subject. For the next hour, they sat outside the Java Hut and talked about their lives. Hermione learned that Harry's parents had died in a car crash when Harry was but a baby, and that now he was living with his relatives. Whenever Hermione tried to ask about them, however, Harry avoided the subject so expertly that she almost didn't catch on. But she was a smart girl, if nothing else, and she _did_ notice, but left it alone.

Hermione dropped Harry off at his new house later. He hugged her good-bye, and she relished the contact of her first friend, perhaps hugging back a bit too enthusiastically. They made plans to do a more extensive tour of the town tomorrow.

That night, lying in her bed, she recalled the few moments when Harry had turned on Malfoy. The memory stuck in her mind, refusing to go away. She loved that he had stood up for her, but hated how he'd acted. It worried her.

The change from friendly to dangerous had been far too quick. It was the attitude of one who'd, perhaps, endured a lot of suffering.

Over and over, despite herself, she wondered: Who was Harry Potter, really?

**For my faithful reviewers:**

**magic-shield: _Everyone's_ opinions on this story mean a lot to me! Here's your update. Hope you enjoyed it.**

**falconwingdiving: Arrg, I hate those fics where Harry moons over Draco, Draco moons over Harry, and everyone get along like peas in a pod. Don't worry, m'dear, I thrive on conflict and I'm sure there's much to come. Thanks for the review!**

**Squirrelswillrule/Cherry0214: I hope this chapter met with your expectations for a unique story! Email me sometime. I'm sure we could give each other useful ideas!**

**angelkitty77: Thanks, and happy holidays to you, too!**

**Aveeno-baby: Pierced Harry rocks my socks! Thanks for the review!**

**Raven's Light: Heehee, I was wondering why your first review ended with "I"...anywho, I need all the luck I can get! Midterms will make or break my grade in almost every class. Thanks for your oh-so-kind words, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**

**Flame-of-Ciara: How the hell do I take anonymus reviews? is confused I'll try to make my chapters longer in the future (damn you, school responsibilities!) and I'm glad you like the story.**

**fudgebaby: Lol, I know, longer chapters. I'm trying, hun. Thanks!**

**Little Sweetling: Ha, I know. I'm a rude person, I suppose. This chapter's not exactly a sudden stop, though I had to strongly resist the urge to make it one Hope you like it, and thanks for reviewing.**

**Hawkenten: Whoa...that was really enthusiastic. Thank you! (I'm a sucker for these kind of reviews...)**

**doughgurl12008: I had to do that baby thing in middle school, but my school was a bit underfunded (understatement of the year) and we used eggs instead of computer chip babies. If the egg was cracked when you returned it, you failed. And, of course, I got angry at someone and chucked the egg at him...and failed. Anyway, thanks!**

**konekokon: Thank you! Please keep reviewing!**

**oracale: I'm loving that you're loving it!**

**Shadow of ZAFT: Thank you! I'm trying to keep up a schedule of regular updates.**

**bthatcher2002: I love it when people tell me my story is original. Thank you oodles!**

**Hanna Abby: That'sa great idea! Sort of conservative!punky!Hermione. Ahh, I love it. May take awhile to happen, though. Thanks for the idea, and for reviewing.**

**HitTheFloor04: Shy!Hermione is soon to become somewhat!bolder!Hermione. Lol. What part of Florida are you from? It's freaking cold, all of a sudden. I love it. Thanks for the review!**

**Alright, phew, I guess that's it. Never knew FanFiction would be so much work! I'm enjoying it though. The influx of reviews floors me. Thank you all, so much!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another consistant update. I really wasn't going to do this, but I got so many reviews, and thought, 'Booya! Update time for my adoring fans!' (You guys are really inflating my ego!) This is a slightly longer chapter, I believe. I finished my exams today, but I can't promise the frequent updates anymore, though I'll try. What with the Christmas rush, my birthday coming up, my relatives coming down, three of my toes broken, and a trip to Punta Gorda, I'll be a little busy. I'll try, though; really, I will...**

After Hermione dropped Harry off, he hurried into the house, relieved that Uncle Vernon's car wasn't in the driveway. For the first time in weeks, Harry was truly happy. When Uncle Vernon had announced the move, he'd felt his heart sink. Back in Surrey, he had a _lot_ of friends—good friends, friends that he'd hoped to know for the rest of his life. He'd even been working out living arrangements with his boyfriend, Cedric, who was well-off and older. They'd broken up, however, when Harry had to leave, because they'd both agreed that a long distance relationship would never work.

Harry felt a pang in his heart when he thought of Cedric, with his preppy good looks and gleaming smile. Though he had never fallen_ in_ love with the boy, he _did_ love him, and missed him dearly. They'd enjoyed a sweet, ten month relationship full of long talks and steamy sex. A good-looking guy, that Cedric.

Unbidden, the image of Draco Malfoy rose in his mind. Now, _he_ was just gorgeous. Long, silvery blond hair that fell, straight as a pin, to his shoulders, icy grey eyes the color of a winter day, a mouth like heaven and sneering words like hell. He had been dressed so conservative, all subdued colors and shining shoes. Harry grinned, remembering the aristocratic lines of his face and the 'I-am-God-bow-down-before-me' attitude. It sent pleasant shivers up his spine.

Of course, he certainly hadn't cared for it when the insults towards Hermione had begun pouring from that luscious mouth. No, not at all.

But Harry had the feeling that maybe Malfoy wasn't as bitchy and cold as he appeared. He wasn't sure what made him think this—hadn't there been blatant interest in his eyes as he'd looked over Harry? Oh, sure, it was obvious he thought he'd hid it, but Harry was used to watching people for subtleties. He had to be, living with the Dursleys, whose moods changed like lightning. A shift in the color of Vernon's skin, for example, meant a beating was imminent if Harry didn't do as he was told, perfectly and as fast as possible.

Sighing, wishing he could have spent more time in the company of Hermione, he headed upstairs to his new room. It was almost identical to his old room—impossibly small, with one window, hardwood floors, and no closet. There was more furniture than he'd ever had before, though, and for that he was grateful. A small, cot-like bed occupied the left hand corner farthest from the door, with a foldable nightstand next to it. There was a dresser in the opposite corner, and a tiny bookshelf that Harry adored. The Dursleys had purchased the house furnished, which he delighted Harry. Otherwise, he'd only have a bed.

His two suitcases and his skateboard were sitting on the bed. Inside the suitcases was everything Harry owned: his clothes, a few bottles of unnaturally colored hair dye, several cartons of cigarettes to tide him over, a half-empty bottle of vodka, a case of CDs, and a dozen or so books. Everything had been bought with his own money. He'd worked at a fish and chips joint in Surrey for some time before they'd moved.

Harry spent the next ten minutes unpacking and artfully arranging everything he could to make the room seem not as empty. But when he finished, it was still pretty obvious that he didn't own much. Two of the bookshelves were empty; there was nothing on top of the dresser, which had only one drawer filled. Mildly disappointed, he kicked off his shoes and put his skateboard in the middle of the room, pleased to see it filled a little more space.

He lay down on the bed, wincing at the hard springs that prodded him. Perhaps a little nap before the Dursleys came home would do him well.

And, with thoughts of Cedric and Malfoy lingering in his mind, he drifted off.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > >

"You lazy wanker!" Vernon bellowed.

Harry was instantly awake. He sat up wildly, gasping, and didn't have time to brace himself for the blow. It hit the side of his face, hard, and he fell back onto the mattress, willing himself to silence; any noise he made would only infuriate his uncle further.

Vernon towered over him, face purple with anger. He scowled at his nephew. "Bet that's all you've been doing today, eh, boy? Resting your worthless ass. Is that it? Is it?" He raised his fist threateningly.

If Hermione had seen Harry at that instant, she would have barely recognized the cowering, trembling mess as the happy, wild boy she'd met earlier that morning.

"No, Uncle Vernon! I swear!" he hastened to reply. "I brought in the suitcases!" Hating the pleading tone of his voice but unable to stop it, he felt the usual helpless rage rise up within him and fought to keep it hidden from his uncle. The anger had only escaped him twice before, and both times, Vernon had nearly killed him.

Vernon made a guttural sound deep in his throat. "You brought the suitcases in," he conceded, his tone ominously quiet. "That you did, boy, that you did. But you didn't fucking _UNPACK THEM, you worthless FUCK!"_ The shriek echoed throughout the house. Downstairs, his fat pink face buried in the contents of the fridge, Dudley grinned, and his mother nearly dropped a plate in surprise at the outburst.

Harry's eyes grew wide. "But…but you only told me to bring them in!" He regretted it even as the words left his mouth.

Vernon stared at him for a second with bulging eyes. Then he growled and lunged forward.

The beating began.

Harry remained silent.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > >

The next morning, at Petunia's insistence, the Dursleys went out again, this time in search of household appliances for their new home. "We won't be home until late," Uncle Vernon told Harry, smirking as the boy shifted in discomfort, favoring one shoulder. "I expect everything to be unpacked by the time we get home, and I don't want to find you asleep again, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, eyes downcast, body rigid with fury.

"What's that, freak? I didn't quite hear you."

"_Yes_, sir," Harry said louder. Satisfied, the Dursleys left, and Harry spent most of the morning unpacking the boxes and trying to put everything where he thought they'd like it. Of course, he knew they would find a thousand little things that he had done wrong, but he would do the best he could.

By noon, Harry was popping aspirin like Tic-Tacs. Aside from the livid bruise under his left eye, Vernon had not strayed above the collarbone in his beating last night. All of Harry's injuries were easily concealed by the right clothing, as usual. But his right arm throbbed in beat with his heart, and his back felt like a herd of elephants had danced the tango upon him. His stomach ached horribly.

By one, he had done as much as he felt able to, and lay down on the living room couch with a groan. As soon as he did, the doorbell rang. Harry cursed colorfully, not moving. It rang again, cutting through his headache like the path of a dagger.

"Who is it?" he yelled, and pulled a cushion over his face.

"Harry?" replied a muffled female voice. "Harry, it's me, Hermione!"

Harry was torn between dismay and delight. He sat up, arranging his features into a happy grin that felt semi-real. He quickly grabbed the clicker and turned on the television, pretending to relax.

"Come on in, Mione! I'm watching some fascinating American telly, and I'm too lazy to get up!"

He heard her laugh as she opened the door and entered the living room. Harry glanced at the TV, saw a cooking show, and quickly switched it to a sitcom before Hermione could notice. She sat down beside him somewhat awkwardly.

"Ready to go?" she asked, and turned to look at him for the first time. She gasped, a hand rising to cover her mouth involuntarily. "Oh, _Harry_, what happened to you! You look awful!"

He laughed easily, feeling nauseous. "When I was telling you about myself yesterday, I suppose I neglected to mention I'm a complete klutz. Last night I forgot that we were in this new house, which has stairs—duh—and when I went to get a glass of water from the kitchen, I took quite the tumble." He touched the bruise with slender fingers, wincing. "Looks that bad, huh?"

Hermione nodded, eyes worried. "Really bad, Harry," she supplied helpfully, and then blushed. Harry shrugged, grinning.

"So where are we going?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" A flicker of hurt flashed across his friend's face.

Harry thought quickly. "Of course I do…into town, right? But I meant, where in town are we going?" Hermione looked uncertain. "Is there a mall here? Why not the mall, then?" he continued when Hermione nodded. Harry stood up, and to Hermione it looked slightly strained. "Been moving stuff all morning," he explained at her questioning look.

Harry got ready, ruffling his hair into some semblance of order and pulling his boots on over a pair of slim blue jeans. He changed into a clean shirt that bore the legend of the Rolling Stones while Hermione waited in the living room. He found her gazing thoughtfully at the pictures he'd arranged on the mantle earlier. "Harry," she said as he walked into the room. "Why aren't you in any of these pictures?"

Harry shrugged, tugging on a long, black canvas coat with studded lapels. "There's another box with more pictures around here somewhere," he lied easily. "Ready?"

Hermione nodded and they went outside. Harry began to fiddle with the radio once again, as soon as he got into the Jeep. "Got some money on you?" he asked idly, tapping his boot to a song he liked.

"Yes, why?"

Harry smirked and pulled out his Newports, cranking down the window. "Because," he said, casually, as he lit up. "We're going to get you some really snappy clothes."

Hermione was caught between worry and pleasure.

**Alrighty, there we go. Coming up:Harry's first day at Stonewall, more Draco, some Ron, perhaps some Sirius and Remus (still debating over that one), and punky!conservative!Hermione, or something of the sort...**

**For my reviewers, again:**

**oracale: I hope you loved this chapter as well.**

**HitTheFloor04: St. Pete, really? I live like 15 minutes away from you then! I love the cold weather, too. What school do you go to? I finished my exams today, thank god. Thanks for the review! Hope you keep reading.**

**Bibilien: Don't worry, not-so-shy Hermione is emerging bit by bit. I love AU stories, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it.**

**falconwingdiving: I wanted a Dark!Harry, but I wanted to make him uber loveable too. Thanks for the review!**

**Flame-OF-Ciara: I'm still trying to decide about Sirius and Lupin, but Ron will definately pop up, probably in the next chapter or two, and he won't be a jackass--he'll be Hermione's new love interest! Predictable, I know. So sue me Thanks for the review!**

**doxie: Not entirely sure yet; are you?**

**magic-shield: And I enjoy writing every update...and reading my reviews! So keep on, if you will.**

**lita-2003: Thank you! And I'm updating, don't worry.**

**Hippy FlowerVoldie's kid: Hermione's about to get a makeover, certainly. I'm pleased you are enjoying it so much! Thank you!**

**Burning tree: Ahh, my version of Draco is a tad different. I adore angsty Harry fics, though. Thanks!**

**peachesjo: I hope you DO find a way around your lack of computer and manage to review again, because I really enjoyed it **

**ura-hd: Direct!Harry is the only kinda Harry there should ever be! Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy this.**

**Little Sweetling: Another speedy update, just for your reading pleasure...And longer, too!**

**medusa-oblangada: I love the nose stud idea. Subtle, and cute. And drunk Hermione will be great fun for later chapters. Maybe once Harry gets settled into school, he'll throw a party when the Dursleys are gone, cha? Thanks for all the ideas!**

**Squirellswillrule: NO! Not the llamas! Anything but the llamas! Hope this update was speedy enough for you...**

**doughgurl12008: Thanks! Good luck on future baby-related projects...**

**Sezza Ridka: Well, this was a bit longer, though I was tempted to end it a little quicker. I resisted the urge. Hope you liked it as much as the last!**

**Raven's Light: I'd love to chat! (I'm quite the people-person, love making new friends and all.) My screen name on AIM is shortnspunky001. I added you to my buddylist, and I hope to talk to you soon!**

**(By the way, that invitation is open to anyone else who may want to chat, okay?)**

**All American19: I've said this before and I'll say it again: I get so giddy when I get reviews telling me my fic is original! Ahh, I love it I love it I love it! Thank you so much for your review!**

**zoomaphonethepirate: But of course! Thanks!**

**Shadow of ZAFT: And continue I shall! I'm glad you like this Harry, I did try to make him...alarmingly likeable. Lol.**

**angelkitty77: Ermm, I think you might be disappointed with the Ron I come up with...if he gets the snot beat out of him, as you so eloquently put it, it probably won't be because he deserved it...but you never know! Merry Christmas to you, too, sweetheart!**

**Whoa...my fingers are numb. In a good way. In a GREAT way.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: My realtives will be here any minute. grumbles So I may not be online for awhile, which is why this update was, once again, so fast. No Ron quite yet, everyone calm down. He'll be in the next chapter.**

When Hermione pulled into the parking lot of the mall, Harry pitched such a fit, declaring loudly that it was the most pathetic, preppy excuse for a mall he'd ever seen, that they left and ended up nearly forty miles away, in a nearby city. After wandering around for a half an hour looking for a different mall, they finally found one Harry was satisfied with and decided to give it a go.

"Here, Mione," Harry said, looking a little sheepish as he handed her some cash. "That's for all the gas we wasted because I'm so picky."

Hermione tried to shove the money back into Harry's hand, hoping not to make a scene as they entered the mall. "It's okay," she assured him, "my parents give me plenty of spending money and I've been saving it up for a long time."

Harry smiled and forcefully plunged the money into her purse. "You'll need all the money you can get for the shopping trip I have planned for today!" Hermione gave up.

For the next three hours, Harry rejected every store Hermione tried to go into. The shops he chose were full of people dressed like him, loud music, and dim atmospheres. She was surprised to find that she liked every one, and the sales clerks all responded beautifully to Harry's accent.

The first place they went into was called The Buzz. Hermione shied away from the black clothing, however. Harry regarded her critically. "Hmm," he murmured, lost in thought, circling her. She shifted nervously and jumped when he clapped his hands sharply. "First of all," he began, "we need to get you something form-fitting." He plucked at her baggy brown sweater disdainfully. "You have a lovely shape, and you hide it with this shit? You need something that emphasizes your waist and chest, and these long legs." Hermione blushed furiously as he continued. "Since you don't seem to be fond of all of these dark colors, how about we try some blues and greens, maybe a little pink…something that fits your personality as well as your body…"

Not exactly a die-hard shopper in the best of circumstances, Hermione suffered through hours of Harry forcing her to try on a multitude of clothing. He seemed inclined towards collections of what Hermione thought of as "business funk", and she had to admit, she loved everything he picked out for her, though the tight button-up vests and slim trousers he chose nearly every time made her a little self-conscious. She had never been quite so aware of her curves.

At the Height of Fashion Hair Salon, she forked out a great sum of money to get her hair professionally straightened and streaked with blond highlights to bring out her natural golden complexion. When she saw the finished product, she burst into tears and Harry danced around her anxiously while the hair dresser looked on in horror.

"You don't like it?" her new friend inquired, wringing his hands. "Why don't you like? I love it! I'm sorry, Mione, I just thought you'd—"

"Oh, Harry, shut up!" she sobbed uncontrollably. "I love it, I _adore_ it! I just…I've never felt so beautiful! Thank you so much!" She broke down and Harry spent twenty minutes consoling her before she could calm down again.

At the end of their shopping, Hermione had six bags worth of clothes, accessories, hair products, and make up, and she had spent nearly everything she'd had. They loaded the Jeep and headed back to town. She kept touching her hair obsessively and smiling through occasional bouts of crying.

It was five o'clock, and the Dursleys' car was still not in the driveway. When Hermione invited Harry to dinner, he accepted gratefully. Hermione's mother was home early from work.

"Hermy!" she called when she heard her daughter come in. "Your father's working an extra shift at the office but I made the two of us some pasta and—oh, umm. Hello," Mrs. Granger said with surprise when she turned around only to see a thin, strange-looking boy standing next to her child. They were both laden down with shopping bags, and Hermione looked nervous.

"Mom, this is Harry," she said, "the boy I was telling you about."

Mrs. Granger tried not to stare at Harry's piercings or his hair and smiled warmly. "Hello, Harry," she greeted, drying her hands on a dishtowel and offering one when she was finished. Harry shook it quickly and smiled back. His lip ring glinted in the kitchen's fluorescent lighting. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"If it's not too much trouble, Mrs. Granger."

"Please, call me Beth." Suddenly, her attention was captured by Hermione's sleek, shining hair. "Oh, sweetheart, you look absolutely stunning!" she gushed, rushing over to touch the pin-straight locks. Her daughter smiled beatifically.

"Harry persuaded me to do it. You really like it?"

"I love it. What did you buy?"

"Oh, that's Harry's doing too. He took me shopping and helped me pick out a few things."

Harry didn't miss the doubtful and slightly frightened look Mrs. Granger threw his way. He bit back a chuckle.

"I'll show you what I got when dinner's over, okay? Harry and I are going to go hang out in my room, so just call us when dinner's ready." Hermione's voice faded as she thundered up the stairs, but Harry hesitated in the doorway.

"Need any help?" he offered.

Mrs. Granger shook her head. "No, I've got it under control, but thank you, Harry." Nodding, he followed Hermione upstairs. Mrs. Granger's brow creased when she heard him reach the landing.

"Leave your door open, Hermione!" she called up after them.

She didn't understand when peals of laughter erupted from her daughter's room.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Upon arriving home from work last night, Hermione's mother had gotten an ear full about the new boy next door: his name was Harry Potter, and they had gone to the Java Hut, where Harry had defended her against another boy who had been making hurtful remarks. Other than that, Bethany Granger knew next to nothing about Harry Potter, other than he was the first person her daughter had ever brought home for something that wasn't a school project. And he made Hermione very happy.

That night at dinner, however, she learned a great deal about the boy next door.

"So, Harry," she began conversationally as she passed him the mashed potatoes. "You're from England?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Little Whinging, in Surrey. My uncle got transferred here. He works for Grunnings, a drill company," he volunteered, spooning the potatoes onto his plate in a small mountain.

Mrs. Granger brightened. "Oh, the main industry in this town is Grunnings. In fact, both I and my husband Herb work there. I'm a secretary and Herb is a computer tech. What does your uncle do for them?"

Harry frowned. "Actually, I…I don't really know. A desk job with a lot of paperwork. He doesn't like to talk to—I mean, he doesn't talk about it much."

Hermione's mother took note of Harry's slip-up but refrained from comment. "What's his name? Maybe I've met him."

Harry's eyes began to darken. Hermione noticed and flinched.

"Vernon Dursley."

"Oh, the new manager! I've seen him around. He's in charge of a lot of people, your uncle."

Harry smiled, but around the edges of the grin was a trace of bitterness. "Ordering people about is what he does best," he said.

Mrs. Granger laughed at what she thought was a joke. "Then he's at the right job—there's a lot of ordering to be done in Grunnings. Where are your parents, Harry?"

Silence fell like a lead weight.

After a moment, she cleared her throat, looking apologetic. "I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense."

Harry shifted in his chair. "No, it's okay, Mrs. Granger. They died when I was a baby, in a car accident. I've been with my relatives for virtually my whole life." Unconsciously, his hand slid beneath his tousled bangs and touched something, an action that went unnoticed by the Grangers.

Hermione looked at her mother warningly, and the rest of the dinner was spent talking about safe, inconsequential things.

At seven, Hermione accompanied Harry outside so he could smoke. The night air was chill and breezy, and they stood for a few minutes in companionable silence until Hermione felt compelled to speak. "School tomorrow," she said. "Will you be starting?"

Harry nodded. "I'm a little nervous, truth be told."

Hermione laughed. "You? Nervous? Now that's something I didn't expect to hear. _I_, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck." She touched her hair idly and thought about the clothes waiting to be put away in her room. "I don't think people will even recognize me."

Harry smiled into the darkness. "They'll be knocked flat, love. D'you mind if I come over in the morning and help you get ready?"

"I'd be eternally grateful!"

"Good," chuckled Harry, "because I would've come if you said no, anyway." His eyes focused on the glow of headlights coming down the street. Vernon's car pulled into the driveway next door. "Shit," Harry hissed, stubbing out his cigarette on the concrete. "I've got to go," he whispered urgently. "Tell your mum I said thanks for the great dinner." And before Hermione could even process what had happened, Harry had disappeared into the bushes. A heartbeat later he reappeared in his yard and began to scale the lattice work that led up the side of the house, moving as gracefully as a spider monkey. Hermione watched as he jimmied the window and crawled inside, confused.

She stood on her porch, observing. The man named Vernon and his wife and son got out of the car and went inside. A few seconds of silence passed, and then the large man's bellow of "_Boy! Get your arse down here! Didn't I tell you that this wasn't to be put here?! You're such a damn_—" and the rest was lost as the front door slammed shut.

Hermione shivered, suddenly so much colder than the weather warranted.

**A/N: Well, here we are. Should this whole thing be centered around Christmas? There could be a Christmas party or something...Ah, I don't know. My toes hurt >. **

**Response for the Reviews:**

**carolinej: Don't worry--though Hermione's appearance is changing, she'll still be the sweet, shy fumbling girl she's been all along. Thanks for reviewing!**

**oracale: Love you for loving it.**

**dea puella: Lol, chill. Ron hasn't even entered the story yet. I'm glad you're enjoying this, though!**

**Hawkenten: More fast updates, woo! Thank you for your kind words, as always. (You're one of my favorite reviewers! But shh! Don't tell anyone )**

**Sezza Ridka: Hermione, being the intelligent girl she is, WILL work it out, and yes, Harry will get his revenge. Remember that little hidden rage thing he has? That will play heavily into the story later, I think. Thanks!**

**ShatteredxDream: Thank you!**

**Draco23Luver: You don't have to wait for more, because here it is!**

**BehindGreenEyes: I do have a tendency to update fast. I get so caught up with all these reviews, and I love to write...so here you are! Thanks!**

**Faren'sFowl: Thank you I'm fond of that line, too...**

**iced-frost: Why, thank you. I am a whole hearted believer in good grammar.**

**No longer a member: Umm...is that a screen name...or...are you no longer a member? >.O Thanks...**

**magic-shield: grins That's exactly how it is. Thanks for the review!**

**Mistress Vamp: Ta da, and thank you!**

**TeeDee: Ron's a'comin' in the next chapter. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Angels Whisper: Smile away, darling, because here's another chapter for your viewing pleasure.**

**A/N: Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry that I didn't get to the rest of the reviews yet, but my relatives are here and I really have to go! I'll finish my responses in the next chapter, and once again, I am SO SORRY!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So this one took a bit longer, but it's a far longer chapter than any I've written before. I actually had to cut it off, because I've lagged on responding to reviews and I'd like to finish that part up. Thanks for your patience! And by the way, I personally DESPISE this chapter, and I'll understand if you guys feel the same way. Feel free to tell me so.**

Like clockwork every morning, Harry Potter woke up at five. He couldn't help it. It had been drilled into him from a young age, because Aunt Petunia woke up at six, and liked to have her breakfast ready and waiting by the time she stumbled into the kitchen fifteen minutes later.

But Harry was nervous and excited about his first day at a new school, and woke up at 4:30. Try as he might, he couldn't get back to sleep, and soon he rose, resigned. His bruises throbbed—the ones on his back fresh from last night's half-hearted beating—but he did his best to ignore the pain.

He dressed carefully, selecting a pair of slim gray hip huggers, his usual combat boots (the only pair of shoes he owned, in fact), and a tight, long-sleeved blue shirt that advertised his favorite movie, the original Crow. He spiked his hair with gel and added a little more eye makeup than he usually wore, smearing kohl around his eyes liberally. A quick glance in the mirror told him the bruise that marred his cheek had already faded significantly, blending into the deep gold of his tan.

Downstairs, he cooked breakfast for the Dursleys and left the plates warm in the oven. He tugged on his canvas trench coat, stepped into the bitter cold of the December morning, and walked quickly to Hermione's, hoping she was awake at the early hour.

Apparently she was, and watching for him, because she opened the door as soon as he approached it, still dressed in long-sleeved pajamas. Harry grimaced; they were baby blue and said 'Princess' all over them in flowery pink cursive.

"Harry," she whined, wincing at the pleading tone of her voice. "Help! What do I wear?"

Harry smirked. "Stand back, babe—I'm a professional."

Half an hour later, Hermione was standing in front of her full length mirror, trying not to squeal like an idiot. She was attired in one of the punkish business suits from yesterday's shopping trip. Her trousers fit snugly to the knees, where they flared out slightly into graceful bells, nearly hiding the toes of her shiny black wingtips. The vest was also form-fitting and matched the pants in material—elegant navy blue pinstripe. Beneath that, a simple, billowy white blouse she'd actually had for years flowed to her fingertips and softened the severity of the outfit. Her hair was in low pigtails, and a rakishly tilted fedora topped it all off. Her make up was very dark, a stark contrast to the light hazel of her eyes.

"You look gorgeous, Mione," Harry said, lying on her bed, wired and smoking cigarette after cigarette. Her room was starting to smell, but she was too delighted with herself to care.

"No one will even recognize me," she breathed. She imagined walking through the hallways. People would turn their heads to follow her progress. They would wonder who she was, where she was from. They might even think she was pretty.

"Hermy, Harry!" Mrs. Granger called from the kitchen, interrupting Hermione's musings. "You kids want some breakfast?"

Harry groaned. "I can't eat before noon, makes me sick," he told Hermione. She smiled at him.

"No, thanks, Mom! We're not hungry!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!"

"…Hermione, is your door open?" her mother added a beat later.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and burst into giggles.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry mumbled, lighting another Newport. He thought longingly of the vodka hidden under the loose floorboards in his room. Hermione glanced at him, frowning in disapproval.

"Harry, you aren't going to be able to finish that. We're three blocks from the school."

"I'll finish it, don't worry." He took a long, deep drag to illustrate his point.

"I don't know why you're so nervous," she continued, turning into the parking lot. "You love meeting new people, right? So calm down. Everything will be fine."

Harry took a deep breath and flicked his cigarette out the window, which was, true to his word, down to the filter. He suddenly thought of something and smiled, eyes distant. "Think I'll be having any classes with that bloke? Malfoy?"

Hermione's face screwed up like she'd just smelled something rotten. "More than likely. He's in two of mine." She guided the Jeep into a parking space near the front entrance.

Stonewall looked more like a prison than a school. Like its name, the building was of cold, gray stone, ancient and weathered. Students milled about on the front lawn, firmly enclosed within their little cliques and hopping up and down for warmth.

"Well," Harry murmured. "This is it."

Hermione looked at her friend in concern. "Come on, Harry," she said gently. "It's not all that bad. We'll have classes together, and lunch, and you'll make tons of new friends. Why wouldn't you? You're a fantastic guy."

Harry sighed and fidgeted in his seat. "I'm not worried about making new friends, Hermione. That's the easy part. It's just, you know, I kind of miss Surrey. I love that I've met you, of course," he amended quickly, "but back in England, I had…I had a boyfriend, and so many friends, and a life. And now…starting over, in another country…it's a little trying."

Hermione turned off the car. She leaned over and, surprising herself, took Harry's hand in her own. "You miss him," she said, and it wasn't a question, but Harry answered it anyway.

He shook his head a little, fighting to find the words. "I do, I miss him a lot, but I was never in love with Cedric, and our relationship was very…open. It was almost as if we were the best of friends, with the added benefit of mutual sex." He smiled sheepishly at her. "Ah, but I don't know what I'm blathering about. Let's go, shall we?"

Hermione smiled back and nodded. They got out and she locked the car. When she came around to the other side, Harry took her hand warmly in his. She loved how affectionate Harry was.

As they passed the kids on the lawn, some of them stopped talking and turned to stare after the strange but beautiful pair. Whispers followed them as they walked into school. Hermione was blushing, but Harry was snickering quietly.

"They're talking about us," she hissed as they pushed open the doors and warmth hit them like a welcome blanket.

"Get used to it, sweetheart," Harry told her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She leaned easily into the contact, settling her own arm around Harry's slender, girlish hips and linking her fingers into the belt loop of his coat. "When you look as good as we do, people are bound to talk." Hermione was seized by a fit of bashful giggles.

Hermione showed Harry where the office was, and as he opened the door, the bell rang. She gave him a lingering hug, ignoring the small voice in her head that wished Harry wasn't into guys. "I've got to go to my locker before class, so I'll see you later, okay?"

He looked around at the hallways, quickly filling with people, and nodded. "See you around, love." He took a moment to compose himself. His face settled into an easy, cocky smile, and he strode into the office. Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at this, and began to head towards her locker.

If she hadn't been thinking about how Harry was going to fare on his first day, Hermione would have realized that people in the hallway were doing exactly what she'd hoped for: following her with their eyes, and wondering who the beautiful new girl was.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The receptionist told Harry to go ahead into the principal's private office. With a cursory knock, he pulled open the door and smiled with amusement at what he saw.

The old man looked like the classic perception of a benevolent wizard, except for the sharp blue business suit he was wearing. He had a long, flowing white beard that disappeared behind the desk, and half-moon spectacles that were perched precariously on the tip of his large, crooked nose. He glanced up at Harry and blue eyes twinkled merrily from beneath bushy brows. If he hadn't been so thin, he could have passed for Santa Claus.

He was speaking into the phone, and gestured for Harry to sit down meanwhile.

"Yes, Minerva?" Harry was delighted to hear that the man had a distinctly English accent. "Could you please send down Mr. Weasley? Ah, no, not that one, I meant Ronald. Yes. Yes. You, too, Minerva. Thank you." He hung up the phone and turned to look at Harry with a smile.

"Mr. Harry Potter, I presume?"

Harry lounged back in his chair, tilting it up with one foot. "Yes, sir."

"But of course. I'm Principal Dumbledore." He leaned forward and stared into Harry's eyes intently. If the boy was uncomfortable, he didn't show it. Satisfied, Dumbledore leaned back again and smiled through his beard. "You look so very much like your father—but you have your mother's eyes."

Harry's chair legs hit the floor with a thump and he gaped at Dumbledore. "What? You knew my parents?"

"Indeed I did, Mr. Potter, indeed I did. I used to teach mathematics in Surrey ages ago. Your parents were among my pupils. Very bright, the both of them." His eyes twinkled manically. "I suppose we can expect the same from you?"

"Ahh…" Harry shifted, and now he _was_ uncomfortable. "I, uhh, I'll try my best, sir," he said lamely.

"Well, that's all we can hope for then, eh? Here's your schedule, Mr. Potter. I hope you'll find everything in order?" Harry read over the schedule briefly, grimacing when he saw that he had chemistry, and grinning when he saw he had P.E.

"Looks good to me," he told Dumbledore. There was a knock on the door.

"Do come in, Mr. Weasley." _Christ,_ Harry thought,_ that twinkling is getting kind of creepy…_

A tall, lanky boy stumbled in, all knees and elbows and awkward grace. Harry was pleased to see he wasn't dressed as perfectly as many of the people he'd seen in the hallways. His shirt was baggy and had a random, bright red 'X' slashed across it, and his pants were equally baggy, with long straps that crisscrossed at calculated intervals. He was eye-catching, to say the least—not because he had any piercings, because he didn't, or because he was beautiful, because the word to describe him was 'cute'—but because his hair was a bright, flaming orange.

He smiled at Dumbledore, a sweet, goofy sort of grin that made Harry want to pat him on the head. Then he noticed Harry, looking up at him amusedly with brilliant emerald eyes lost in a sea of black kohl. He gave a small start, and said, "Whoa!" loudly, before he could stop himself.

Harry laughed.

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, obviously choosing to ignore this little exchange. "This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Ronald Weasley. He's going to be showing you around and answering any questions you may have about the school or your classes."

"I am?" the Weasley boy asked with surprise. "Oh. Umm…'kay." He looked at Harry askance. "I'm Ron," he announced, "and I'll be your tour guide today." He swept into a flamboyant bow. Harry laughed again, liking him.

"You boys should get going. Mr. Weasley, just show him to his first class for now. First hour is," Dumbledore added, glancing at his pocket watch, "over in only fifteen more minutes, so be quick. I will be informing all of your teachers, Mr. Weasley, that you may be late to each class today because of your duties. But, please, don't abuse the privilege, hmm?" The principal looked knowingly at the boys, who both suddenly found their shoes a very interesting study, hiding identical grins.

"You're free to go," he added, shuffling through the mess of papers on his desk.

Ron made for the door, and Harry followed him out.

In the hallway, Ron turned to Harry and smiled. "So, did you and your family just move here?"

"Yes," replied Harry, "from England." He looked around at the empty hallway. "Could you help me find my locker? I want to unload a little before class." He held up his backpack, from which part of his skateboard protruded oddly.

"Sure. Wicked awesome accent, by the way. What's the number?"

"Umm, four-five-eight."

"This way, then."

As they walked, Ron chatted non-stop, much to Harry's amusement. "Stonewall's not so bad—there's an open campus, so you can leave at lunch time and get something to eat or whatever. And you get a study hall after fifth hour, but Mr. Black doesn't really make you study, he just tells everyone these really funny stories about all the stupid stuff he did when he was our age. There _are_ some teachers to watch out for, though—especially Mr. Snape, the chemistry teacher; he hates everyone. Well, everyone but this guy Malfoy, who's a total jacka—"

"Malfoy?" Harry interrupted. "Oh, we've met."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, you have? Then you know what I'm talking about. He thinks he's so cool, with his little jock friends and his BMW. There are a lot of idiots who idolize him and follow him around and shit. It's pathetic."

"Hmm, I'll bet," Harry replied neutrally. Ron pointed out his locker, in the main hall, and Harry read the combination off while Ron opened it. He pulled his skateboard out and stuffed it in, listening with interest as Ron ranted on about Malfoy.

"—and he's always making these snide remarks about the size of my family and throwing pencils and shit at people in class—"

Malfoy really _did_ sound like an asshole. Harry was intrigued.

"Harry? Hey, Harry!"

"What?" he said when he realized Ron was trying to get his attention.

"There's, like, ten minutes left in first hour. What's your first class?"

"Oh. Let's see…ermm, world history."

"Oh, lucky you. Mr. Binns teaches that class. It's really boring, and since you have it in the morning you can just take a nap. Don't worry, he never notices, or if he does, he doesn't care. You wanna hang out at lunch? We can go to the Java Hut."

Harry tried to keep up with the abrupt changes in subject. "Yes, that sounds like fun. May I bring a friend?"

Ron shrugged. "No problem. Here we are. Meet me by your locker when the bell rings. You remember where it is?"

"Yeah. See you later, Ron," Harry called to the redhead's retreating back.

He opened the door.

"—and so, as Caesar lay dying of multiple stab wounds, he looked into the eyes of his trusted advisor, Brutus, and declared, 'Et tu, Brute!', which means something along the lines of, 'You, too, Brutus,' and after he died, Rome—oh. Can I help you young man?" An elderly, myopic man who looked like he had one foot in the grave turned to look at Harry questioningly. The class, which had been, for the most part, dozing off, woke up and gaped at the pierced young man.

Harry winked at them and said, "Yes, sir, I'm Harry Potter, your new student." A few girls in the classroom, the ones who liked bad boys, felt their hearts flutter, and everyone began whispering at the sound of his accent.

The man squinted at him for a moment, then slowly trudged over to his desk and marked something down on a clipboard. "Yes, yes. Take a seat, Mr. Potter. We were just learning about the effects Caesar's death had on Rome. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. After Caesar died—" and he droned on, apparently forgetting Harry entirely as he began to write on the board in a slow, trembling scrawl. Harry looked at him doubtfully before choosing the only available seat—next to a girl in the back of the room wearing quite a lot of pink. He was disappointed to discover Draco Malfoy was not in this class.

"Hi," the girl whispered, leaning much closer to Harry than was necessary in order to offer her hand. "I'm Lavender Brown. You're from England, aren't you? We have another boy here who has an accent kind of like yours, only he's from Ireland. Weird guy. His name's Seamus Finnigan. I'd avoid him, but my friend Pavarti is like, totally in love with him, so we're always around him and he makes these totally dorky jokes. Are you excited to be here? Where do you live? I live in Stonewall Heights, which is right near the school, like a block away, but I still drive to school because walking even a block in stilettos is, like, really hard. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Eyes wide, Harry edged away from her. He glanced around at his fellow students for help, many of which looked at him pityingly but none who offered assistance.

"No," he told Lavender cautiously.

"Oooh!" she squealed, bouncing in her seat and fluttering her eyelashes. "I don't have a boyfriend; isn't that a coincidence, _Harry_?"

"I'm the market for one," he said, taking the easy way out.

She smiled coquettishly. "For what, a girlfriend?"

"No." He smirked at her. "A boyfriend."

She blinked at him. "A…a boy…oh. Oh."

The rest of the hour was spent in silence as his classmates snuck curious glances at him out of the corners of their eyes. Harry took Ron's advice, and took a nap.

When the bell rang, Harry grabbed his pack and shot out of the class, smiling widely as he heard the flurry of gossip that followed him out.

Much to Harry's disappointment, he didn't have any classes with Hermione or Malfoy by the time lunch rolled around. He did see Hermione in the hallway once, however, and stopped to chat.

"So?" he prodded, and that one word unleashed a volume from Hermione, whose eyes were glowing with happiness.

"Harry, no one even recognized me and everyone was so surprised to learn who I was! Even my teachers asked if I was a new student! People are talking to me now, and I even noticed a few guys checking me out! There was this one that really caught my eye—oh, Harry, he's so cute! I don't even know his name but I smiled at him and he smiled at me and I nearly fainted! This is the greatest day of my life!"

Harry laughed at Hermione's exuberance and she was so caught up in her happiness that she didn't even blush. "How's your day coming along?" she thought to ask after a moment.

"Fine," he answered, "but not nearly as exciting as yours, apparently. People—mostly girls—seem taken with the whole English thing. It's already rampant about the school, I'm sure, that I'm gay. Oh, by the way, I met this boy—"

"Ooh, possible boyfriend material?" she interrupted teasingly.

He laughed again. "Somehow, I doubt it. Anyway, his name is Ron, and he invited us to go to Java Hut at lunch time with some of his friends. How 'bout it?"

The old, nervous Hermione was back in a flash. "Oh, I don't know, Harry. I probably wouldn't know anyone there…"

"Well, neither will I, and if worse comes to worst, we can leave. Come on, Mione," he coaxed, giving her his most charming smile. "It'll be fun."

"Well, alright, I'll meet you out front later," she agreed reluctantly, and then the bell rang for fourth hour and they both rushed off to their respective classes. Harry lost more time looking for Ron, and finally found him by the water fountain. He looked worried, and his expression flooded with relief when he spotted Harry.

"Harry, I've been looking all over for you! Come on, man! What class do you have next, because I have chemistry and even though Principal Dumbledore warned all of my teachers that I'd be late, Mr. Snape has it out for me and if I'm not there pronto…" He trailed off, hopping anxiously from foot to foot.

Harry gave him a weird look. "I'm sure it won't be so bad. I have chemistry now, too. Lead the way."

Ron blew out his breath in a huff of relieved air. "Sorry to say this, but I'm glad you'll get nailed for this, too. It's easier when he has two people to yell at."

Harry smirked. "He's not Jesus Christ incarnate, Ron," he said as they arrived at the chemistry classroom. Ron gave him a look, hand on the doorknob.

"More like Satan," he warned the raven-haired boy. They entered the classroom, Harry shaking his head with amusement.

Immediately, he scanned the classroom and felt his spirits soar as his eyes met with cold gray steel. Malfoy! Malfoy was in this class with him! He restrained himself from doing an ecstatic jig, unsure as to why he had developed such an obsession with the stuck up little prat, but happy nonetheless.

"Mr. Weasley, would you please care to explain why you are nearly ten minutes late to my class, and have someone I have never seen before with you?" snapped a bitter, sneering voice to Harry's left. He looked over at the person, and felt an instant grimace of distaste contract his face.

The grimace was mirrored on the professor's face, but far less attractively. Greasy, knotted hair hung about a sallow face that was overshadowed by his huge nose. His eyes were black, beady, and downright hostile. His suit hung loosely on his thin frame and gave the impression of sloppiness.

"Uhh…uhh…Mr….uhh…" Harry became aware that poor Ron was stuttering incoherently, paralyzed. Harry decided to take pity on him and save the day.

"New student," he drawled, allowing Snape to see the insolence in his eyes. "I'm Harry Potter. Ron was showing me to class, which is why we're late."

"That is not an excuse," the teacher replied promptly. "Detention, the both of you." And just like that, Snape dismissed them and turned away.

"No." The class gasped as one, and Snape spun sharply to stare at Harry in disbelief.

"_What_ did you just say?" he hissed through his teeth.

"I said, no, you can't give us detention," Harry replied calmly, never breaking eye contact. "Principal Dumbledore's given us special leave. I do believe he's already told you that; however, if you'd like to check, you can always call him."

Someone behind him—Harry thought it might have been Malfoy—muffled a snicker.

"Well?" he prodded when Snape continued to stare at him.

"Sit down," Snape barked furiously. "This is the one time I will make an exception. You are never to expect any further special treatment from me, Mr. _Potter_. The same goes for you, Weasley. Take your seats."

As Harry strode leisurely to his seat, he caught Malfoy's gaze again, the other boy's face showing the slightest hint of approval. With a secretive little smile, Harry winked at him. Surprisingly, Malfoy blushed and looked away immediately.

_That's promising_, Harry decided, taking his seat.

An hour later, staring at the back of Malfoy's platinum blonde head and ignoring the not-so-subtle attempts Ron was making to get his attention, Harry was drifting off despite himself. Snape had a talent for making chemistry seem like the most boring class on the face of the planet.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, perhaps you can tell us?"

Harry looked up with a jerk. Snape and most of the class, including Malfoy, were looking at him expectantly.

After an extended period of silence, it became obvious that Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on. Snape nodded to himself, satisfied.

"Do you think you're special, Mr. Potter?" he inquired silkily. He didn't wait for an answer. "Do you think that you are exempt from the duties I assign the rest of the class? Because you are not. If I catch you not paying attention again, there will be consequences. From what I have gathered here today about you, I believe I will take a great pleasure in failing you, along with the more than half of this class that is too slow and too foolish to understand the delicate properties of chemistry." The bell rang, punctuating Snape's biting analysis of Harry Potter's poor character.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was smirking and whispering something to a pug-faced blonde girl sitting next to him. His girlfriend, Harry deduced, as she laughed and glanced in his direction cattily.

"You are all dismissed," Snape announced. As Harry packed up, he caught Snape's eye and smiled slowly, fully aware that he was provoking the hook-nosed man and enjoying every second of it. When Snape opened his mouth to say something, Harry swished out of the classroom, trying not to laugh.

"Damn, Harry!" Ron said with admiration. He had been waiting for him outside the door. He high-fived the shorter boy enthusiastically. "Way to take Snape down!"

It was lunch time, so the two of them headed towards the parking lot, laughing and joking about the disasterous chemistry class.

"Harry! Harry, wait up!" Hermione called, running up to them, hat askew. Harry grinned at the adorable picture she made, pigtails flying and bright-eyed. As she approached, she caught sight of Ron and blushed as fiercely as Harry had ever seen her. Ron was, Harry discovered, about the same color.

"Hermione, this is Ron Weasley; Ron, this is Hermione Granger," he introduced them, watching closely.

"Pleased to meet you," Hermione mumbled, staring at her feet. Ron responded in kind. Harry smothered the smile trying to surface.

In the parking lot, Hermione pulled him aside, flailing a little in her excitement. "Harry! That's the guy! Ron's the guy who checked me out and smiled at me earlier! Ohmigod! He's so cute! Ohmigod!"

Alarmed, Harry put his arm around her shoulders and gently led her farther from the group of people accumulating around Ron. "Mione, calm down!" he said, half-seriously. "You're going to hyperventilate or something."

Giving Harry an embarrassed smile, she fought to regain her composure. "It's all so new to me," she said by way of explanation.

"Come on," he urged, tugging at her. Neither noticed Ron's jealous gaze watching them as they linked hands. "I want to go socialize!"

Giggling, Hermione allowed herself to be dragged to the Jeep. "Meet you at the Java Hut!" Harry called back to Ron.

He looked at Hermione pleadingly. "Mione, love, darling, sweet—can I drive?"

"_Hell_ no!" she scoffed, climbing into the driver's seat.

**A/N: Okay. There. I'm getting my hair cut tonight, woot woot. I'm going to get something even funkier than my usual style. Maybe I'll get the sides buzzed and leave the top long and hawk it or something...**

**Responses for the Reviews:**

**emedragon: Oh, wow, thank you so much! The best you've ever read? I'm honored beyond all appearances.**

**Angels Whisper: I _hope_ this chapter made you smile as well. Enjoy!**

**Sheyda: Thanks, and I took your advice. I appreciate it a lot!**

**iced-forest: Yeah, three broken toes, lol. Damn concerts Thanks for the review!**

**Squirrelswillrule: I'm so delighted with the reviews that say this is their favorite fanfic. Thank you so much! And yes, you did tell me.**

**Flame-OF-Ciara: Hmm, I don't know. Maybe Tom Riddle will pop up somewhere as another high school kid who can't stand Harry, or something, but no promises. Thanks!**

**Raven's Light: My relatives ARE driving me nuts! They found out that I smoke and I've been getting flack ever since. I really enjoyed talking to you the other night, and thanks for reviewing.**

**medusa-oblangada: Sadly, no, but I could send you the chapter if you'd care to give me your email..though, come to think of it, you might be unable to see this one as well...because it's longer than the fourth....heh.**

**Crystal Moon Dragon: And I'm obsessed with my reviews! Thank you.**

**magic-shield: Not always in the mornings, but usually. Now it's about eight at night, though. Thanks!**

**Slash-lover: Harry's an accomplished liar. Everything will eventually be revealed, however.**

**theTigersFire: Do you _want_ him to have a tattoo? I'm sure I could squeeze it in somewhere. Thanks!**

**lita-2003: This only half the school day, sorry...thanks for the review!**

**Mistress Vamp: Ta da! Ron-ness galore! Thanks!**

**ura-hd: Thank you, I'm so glad you're enjoying it.**

**dea puella: Well, I was thinking the beginning of December would be good, so they'd have two or three weeks of school and then the Christmas holiday. The cold weather centers around it, you know? Thanks!**

**Hawkenten: Oh, yes, there will definately be a party in Harry's immediate feature--a chance to show the readers his wild side! Lol. Thanks so much!**

**All American19: O.O Did I say it was around summer? Crap. I hope I didn't...I'll have to go back and check, though. Thanks!**

**HitTheFloor04: I go to Hudson High. And you're right, I have no idea where Seminole is. Man, on my birthday yesterday it was 32 degrees outside and I was so happy. Thanks for reviewing!**

**oracale: Love _you_ **

**fudgebaby: Thanks!**

**Aveeno-Baby: Thanks! You, too!**

**Little Sweetling: More Draco to come, love, no worries. Hope you liked this chapter as well!**

**ilovetheformat: Really? I'm your first review? I'm honored! Thanks a bunch.**

**doughgurl2008: She'll figure it out within the next, say, two or three chapters. That sounds about right. Thank you!**

**Alright, guys. Happy Holidays!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Short chapter, but better than nothing...I hope. The longest Draco-Harry encounter yet, for those of you who have been bugging me about it...**

The Java Hut was bustling with high school students on their lunch break, fanatically busy. The small parking lot was completely full, and Hermione ended up parking across the street, in the lot of a general store.

Harry got out of the Jeep and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. He lit a cigarette and danced about for warmth as Hermione locked the car and checked the doors.

"Cold, cold, bloody fucking _WONDERFUL COLD_!" he shrieked at no one in particular. "Hermione! Lend me your body heat!" Rolling her eyes, she did as she was told and they hurried across the street in a huddled, giggling mass.

No one was sitting outside, having preferred the delicious, crowded warmth of the indoors.

Stubbornly, Harry sat on the utterly freezing wrought iron chair before him.

"Harry! It's nearly twenty degrees outside! Come _on_, let's go in!" Hermione gasped.

"No, I want to finish my cigarette. Go ahead inside, and I'll be in, in but a minute, love." For a moment, Hermione weighed the odds—a roomful of people who either didn't know her or actively disliked her…or frostbite. The warmth radiating from the Java Hut won out, however, and with a quick nod to Harry, she darted inside.

Chuckling, ignoring the bitter numbness his bruises screamed at him about in the cold, Harry took another drag, perhaps revealing in the pain just a little.

Harry was never at his best alone, and now his mind turned to darker things.

To last night's beating.

Vernon had been upset because Harry had put all of the pictures on the mantle, and none on the end tables in the foyer. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

"_Boy!_" he had roared, face redder than usual. "What did I tell you, huh? _What_ did I _tell_ you? I told you to put the pictures in the hallway _and_ the mantle! Can't you follow even the simplest of directions, _you worthless freak!_?"

"You told me nothing of the sort!" Harry had retorted unwisely; his mouth always made it worse for him.

_Wham!_ Vernon's fist sent Harry spinning into the wall. A picture frame he'd carefully hung up earlier fell and shattered. Lying on the floor, trembling with rage and terror, he found himself staring at an old photograph of Dudley's fat, pink, two year old face.

Somehow, having to look at that picture as his uncle punished him made it all the worse.

"Why the long face, Potter? Did Granger abandon you already?"

Harry was jerked out of the memory by Draco Malfoy's drawling voice.

Regaining his composure quickly, he turned to offer the object of his mild obsession a charming grin, secretly pleased that Malfoy was not in the company of his friends.

"Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy," he said cheerfully, ignoring the jibe.

Malfoy sneered. "Sitting out here, alone in the cold, looking forlorn and pathetic—" he began in another attempt to break through Harry's infallible good mood, but Harry interrupted him.

"Please, have a seat," he offered, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. Malfoy looked at him with wide eyes, and glanced around as if for help. No one was outside. The chiming of Christmas music drifted through the glass windows of the coffee shop behind them. Harry waited, a small, dare-you-to-do-it smile tugging at his mouth.

Draco Malfoy looked around nervously, and then back at the strange creature awaiting his answer, smiling at him teasingly.

The unspoken challenge was what compelled him; a Malfoy never turned down a dare. Trademark smirk firmly in place, he pulled out a chair and took a seat across from Potter, noting with satisfaction the surprise that flickered briefly across the other boy's face. Another emotion quickly followed, one that Draco rarely saw directed towards him: happiness.

"Stop that," he snapped irritably before he could stop himself.

"Stop what?" Potter asked, confused.

"Stop…grinning." Draco winced at how foolish it sounded out loud.

Potter raised one pierced eyebrow but didn't question it. He arranged his features into an alluring pout. "Better?" he asked, obviously fighting to keep the smile from returning.

The first time Draco Malfoy ever met Harry Potter, he'd decided almost immediately that he couldn't stand him. He was too pleasant, too happy, and it clashed with the dark clothing, make up, and…and the bottled fury that lurked just beneath the surface, the insensible, cold rage that he had glimpsed momentarily that day.

But now Draco found himself disliking Potter for another reason all together.

He hated Potter because he was beautiful. He hated how engaging that fucking grin was; he hated how sexy the pout was. Ha hated the way his eyes seemed to glow in the dismal winter weather, glittering and hopeful and somehow haunted. He hated the boy's long, slender fingers as they brought the cigarette up for another drag.

He hated that he had been thinking about those fingers, those _hands_, for three days straight. Dreaming about what it would be like to feel Potter's skin against his, soft and nearly painfully electric.

"What is _wrong_ with you, Potter?" he said aloud, glaring. "I'd almost say you're flirting with me. What're you, some kinda fag?"

His voice betrayed none of his inner turmoil. In fact, Draco had been struggling with his sexuality for years, ever since he'd joined the soccer team in his freshman year and met Oliver Wood, the coach. He couldn't take his eyes off of Oliver—the way his ass moved in silky soccer shorts, the powerful muscles in his arms and chest, the sweat that beaded on his face after a particularly strenuous workout. Hoping to put an end to what he considered to be sinful thoughts, he'd snatched up a girlfriend, and had kept a steady stream of them throughout his attendance at Stonewall. Pansy, the latest one, was a giggling, pug-faced cheerleader with a lot of curves and not a lot of intelligence.

Potter leaned forward, pout gone and smiling reigning once more. "In England," he said conversationally, not in the least offended as far as Draco could tell, "a fag is a cigarette." He lit another one. "And I'm not a cigarette, as you can plainly see."

There was a silence as Draco processed this. "You're an idiot," he said finally. _A gorgeous idiot_, his mind added, and he smacked himself mentally.

Potter shrugged, unperturbed. "That may be," he agreed amicably. "So, I hear Snape despises everyone but you. Why is that?"

The abrupt change in subject startled Draco, and instead of the jeering retort he would have normally dished out, he found himself replying civilly. "He's my uncle. He has to like me."

"My uncle doesn't. Do you actually enjoy his company? He seems like such a prat."

"He's okay, outside of school. Your uncle doesn't what?"

"Like me." A flash of darkness slid across the surface of Potter's emerald gaze and retreated quickly. Draco shivered. "Where are your friends?"

Draco suddenly realized that he was having a real conversation with the hated boy who had stirred such wrongful feelings deep within him, and sought to remedy the problem quickly. "What's it to you, Potter?" he said meanly.

Potter's eyes narrowed a little. "Will you stop doing that? The whole stuck-up git act is pretty captivating at first, but really, I'm trying to get to know you a little better. You run hot and cold, Malfoy. Make up your mind. Will you put aside whatever barrier you've decided to construct long enough for us to have a nice conversation, or will you blast me with bitter insults at every turn? Well? I'm waiting."

"I…I…what?"

Oh, how Draco _despised_ this boy! Why was it so easy for Potter to take every witty thing he said and use it to his own means to make him look like an utter jackass? Why was it that only he could make him speechless?

"Captivating?" he finally asked.

"Huh?"

"You said the way I acted was captivating," Draco repeated. It was impossible to tell if the flush on Potter's cheeks was from the cold or mild embarrassment, but he felt instinctually that he now had the upper hand.

About damn time.

He reclined in his chair, smirking. "I think I was right about you, Potter," he mused, watching him carefully. "I think," and here he paused dramatically, "that you _are_ a fag."

Draco was, to say the least, surprised when Potter burst out laughing, clapping his hands with amusement. "Well, duh!" he managed to gasp out, clutching his side. "Oy, you bloody Americans! So damn oblivious, the lot of you!" Another peal of muffled giggles escaped him.

Draco scowled. "So you are?"

"Gay? Well, yeah, isn't it obvious? You said so yourself, I've been flirting with you every chance I get." Potter watched him with amusement as he sputtered indignantly.

"What? I'm not queer, Potter!"

The other boy shrugged. "Suit yourself, Malfoy. But homosexual or not, I'll give you one thing: You're the most stunningly, mind-blowingly gorgeous bloke I've ever had the privilege of laying eyes on. And if you ever decide to bat for the home team, here's my number."

Potter shoved a piece of paper into Draco's hand and strolled inside, grinning that infernal grin.

Furious, face flaming, Draco stood up, knocking his chair over, and began to stalk to his car. _Fucking asshole,_ he thought angrily, _fucking fag! What a creep!_

_…what a hot creep…_

"No!" he shouted out loud. A passing woman in a ridiculous fur hat gave him an odd glance, which he ignored. He saw a trash can and strode towards it with die-hard intent.

But his hand hovered over the bin, fingers clenched viciously around the scrap of paper. After a long, silent debate with himself, he put it in his coat pocket, grimacing.

Just in case, he assured himself, he ever wanted to torment Potter.

**Response for the Reviews:**

**magic-shield: At least you got around to reading it, eh? Thanks!**

**LJMharry: You liked them both? Phew, I'm glad. Personally, I'm not too fond of The Golden Boy Image. Thanks, and merry Christmas to you too!**

**Hawkenten: Don't worry, Harry will get progressively more wild. Thanks!**

**HPDM-Slash-Rocks: A lot more HD interaction here. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Bibilein: Here it is, just for you! Lol. Enjoy.**

**HitTheFloor04: ...It's 36 degrees outside? Humid? Pssh. Lol. Yeah, Draco's all American Eagle-ish, and unfortunately, Pansy _is_ his girlfriend...not for long, though!**

**ZombieGurl98: Thank you.**

**All American19: Thank you, thank you, and thank you! I try. Been a bit hectic around here, lately...**

**catseyes348: Thank you, I love punk Harry fics, myself.**

**ladyraebef: Oh, I love how my hair came out! It's so short, sort of shaved on the sides and longer up top...the shortest I've ever had it. Thank you for the review.**

**Sezza Ridka: Thanks for the review, and for squashing my self-doubt.**

**randompancake: I do that too with my original stories, but I'll try to keep it up because of these wonderful reviews; thanks!**

**driven to insanity: Ron is such a loser sometimes in the books. I thought he needed a little pizzaz, you know? Thanks!**

**medusa-oblangada: That's a really good idea. I'll try to work it in somewhere. Maybe I should stick her in band or something. Thank you!**

**Night: Would you like me to email the story to you?**

**Dea Puella: I purposely never mentioned where they were, because personally, I have no freaking clue. If you could suggest somewhere I'll shove it in; but I don't think I even named the town. I actually really love the cold weather. Thanks for the review!**

**Slash-lover: An angel...I like that. In black ink, curled in on himself, maybe? I'm looking for an excuse to make Harry take his shirt off, so I can display the tattoo, and maybe some nipple piercings, heehee.**

**Kuramalovergirl15: Draco gets with Harry, Hermione makes new friends, and Ron gets with Hermione. Yep. You betcha.**

**Flame-OF-Ciara: Well, thanks. I liked this chapter a little bit more than the last...**

**Chesire Cat666: Thank you so much!**

**bthatcher2002: Thanks, here it is.**

**addmoose2004: Well, here's another chapter set in the school day...I guess the whole thing will be three chapters long, arrrg. Thanks!**

**Hannah Abby: I wanted to spark Ron's jealousy with Harry's casual affection towards Hermione. Merry Christmas to you, too, and thanks!**

**Lo26: Thank you! Please keep reading, cha?**

**theTigersFire: Ahh, I love embarrassing Draco! Thanks.**

**doxie: Heehee, yeah.**

**Mistress Vamp: No Ron in this chappie, sorry. Thank you for the review!**

**Dragon Smile: I'm glad you like it, even if it isn't usually your thing. Thanks!**

**mah-angel-frum-heaven: Hey, thanks!**

**Angels Whisper: I hope you like this chapter as much as you did the last...**

**drarrysev: Another great idea! Wow, I'm really going to have to cram all of this in, lol. Thanks for the tip and the review!**

**Crystal Moon Dragon: Sorry this one is so much shorter. And yes, Pansy IS Draco's girlfriend, for now.**

**iced-forest: A well-rounded story? Thank you! I like how awkward they are around each other, thought it would make them more personable.**

**zoomaphonethepirate: You certainly aren't annoying; I adore rambling reviews. So thank you!**

**fudgebaby: Glad you liked it, and thanks!**

**simone: You betcha! I tried not tp make Harry too extreme--glad I pulled it off. Thank you for reviewing.**

**ura-hd: You, too! And thanks!**

**oracale: Love that you're loving it.**

**Rit-Globe: Heehee, my mom makes me wrap the presents that she's bought for me. Enjoy this as well, and try to keep your rear parked firmly in your chair. Thank you!**

**lita-2003: Thanks!**

**Raven's Light: And they're going to be here for another two weeks! I can barely stand to think about it. Thank you for reviewing; let's chat again, cha?**

**Hippy FlowerVoldies Kid: Wow, I'm on both lists? I'm so honored! Thank you so much!**

**A/N: Hoooooly crap, that's it. Jeez. Thank you all for reviewing, like I've said a million times. I appreciate it SO much. Happy Holidays. Christmas tomorrow--y'all excited? I know I am.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, first things first. This is a SHORT chapter, and for that I am sorry. I was in the process of making it longer, but I haven't updated in more than a month and began to feel guilty because of the dozens of reviews sitting in my inbox, rotting. So I left it somewhat short--and this is the worst chapter yet. It's my 'setting the scene' chapter, and the rest of Harry's school day is rushed, as well as his departure into town. Second of all, I feel like a raccoon run over by a mack truck, and I can't bring myself to respond to each and every review this time. Hence, some will be grouped together. I'll do my best to answer the extensive ones, and I will be sure to answer any and all questions asked of me. Third of all, I am REALLY sorry about this whole thing, and the delay. Do bear with me...and email me if you feel like it. I've gotten several from my devoted readers, and I've gotta tell you, I love it. I adore it. I worship it.**

**And now, on with the show...**

"Hey, Ron," Ginny Weasley murmured, nudging her brother's arm. "That your new friend? He's…interesting enough to be the guy you described, sure enough."

Ron spared a glare for Ginny, who'd interrupted his conversation with Hermione. He glanced at Harry, who was standing at the service counter, ordering coffee through chattering teeth. "Yeah, that's him." He turned eagerly to talk to Hermione again.

But she was already rushing over to Harry, looking concerned. "Dammit!" he muttered, casting another glare at his sister. "You suck," he told her petulantly.

"For Christ's sake, Harry," Hermione scolded, grabbing his icy hands and warming them with her own. "What took you so long?"

Harry grinned, handing money to the girl at the counter and accepting his coffee gratefully. "Had myself another fag," he answered, cuddling the cup close and breathing in the aroma, "and a little chat with Malfoy."

Hermione's slightly lipsticked mouth opened in a small 'o' of surprise. "Are you kidding?"

"Certainly not! Mmm, something about that boy, Mione…"

Hermione shook her head sadly, slowly leading Harry to their group's table and buying the two of them time to talk privately. "He's an ass, _and_, as I mentioned before, he has a girlfriend. I'd bet you anything that Draco Malfoy is straight as an arrow."

"And _I'd_ bet you anything that he's a closet-case secretly hoping for someone just like me to drag him out and show him the wonders of a homosexual life!"

Harry said this rather loudly. Several people gave him dubious looks. He made sure to grin and make eye contact with every single one of them.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, embarrassed. She detoured to a relatively unoccupied corner and pulled him close. "Shh! Look, I'm just saying, maybe you should consider someone else. See that guy at Ron's table? The black boy sitting to the right of him? He's openly bi. What about him? Cute, right? And single! His name is Dean Thomas."

Harry narrowed his eyes mischievously at the boy, pretending to mull over it. "Hmm…cute," he agreed. Hermione's sigh of relief was cut short as he smashed her hopes. "However, I like challenges, and Malfoy's a challenge if I've ever seen one. Not to mention, he's so pretty. I've never been one to pass up a pretty boy."

"Arrrg!" Hermione muttered through clenched teeth. "You're impossible!" With that, she stomped off. Harry followed, still grinning.

Hermione sat back down next to Ron in a huff. She glared down at her cooling coffee and shifted away from Harry when he squeezed into the booth next to her.

"Aww, come on," he whispered to her, acutely aware of the table's curious gazes. "It's not such a big deal…"

Hermione glanced at him, eyes hard. "You're being stupid, Harry," she whispered back furiously. Despite herself, however, she softened at her friend's hurt expression. Under the table, her hand touched his tentatively. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Harry smiled a little and patted her hand. "I know what I'm about, Mione," he said softly, "and believe me, I'm sure a little hurt will surface along the way. But that's never stopped me before."

"_So_," Ron interjected loudly. Harry was amused and intrigued by the jealousy he saw in the other boy's strained expression. "Where've you been, Harry?"

Harry debated with himself for a second before shrugging. "Out having a few smokes."

"Ugh," Ron grunted, making a disgusted face. "That's so gross. You're killing yourself, you know," he added, looking as if he expected this to be a great revelation.

Harry shrugged again, patting the pocket that held his fags. "There are worse ways to die." He noticed the boy Hermione had called Dean nodding agreeably. "Anyway, care to introduce me to your mates, Ron?"

A shrill giggle off to his left made him jerk sharply, and Harry bit back a groan upon spying Lavender Brown for the first time. "Mates," she breathed when he cast her an irritated look, "instead of saying 'friends', you know? It's so cute." Luckily, before Harry could open his mouth and retort in a way more than likely offensive, Ron intervened.

"Okay, that's Lavender, and her friend, Pavarti Patil." Patil was a pretty Indian girl, who had, much to Harry's distress, a laugh as frequent and sharp as Lavender's. "And this is Seamus Finnigan, our resident smartass…" Seamus, a handsome boy with sandy golden hair and a large white smile, opened his mouth to say something, but was overridden by Ron. "…And Neville Longbottom", who had cheeks like a chipmunk and nervous brown eyes, "and these two are Hannah Abbot, and Ernie MacMillan, but you can just ignore them because that's all they ever do." 'That' referred to the furious make out session a small girl and only slightly bigger boy were engaged in. Indeed, they showed no reaction to being introduced, and Harry doubted they'd heard. "And this is Dean Thomas, your fellow smoker, and that's my annoying little sister, Ginerva."

"_Ginny_, dammit, it's _Ginny_!" the younger Weasley exploded before Dean could offer his hand to Harry. She glared at Ron, then Harry, quite seriously. "And if you ever call me Ginerva you and I are going to have some serious problems."

Harry raised one pierced brow, impressed at how quickly her face had gone from white to red—a matter of seconds. He held up both hands in a gesture of agreement. "No problem, no problem—Ginny. Got it." And when she smiled, and she was pretty.

"Nice to meetcha, Harry," a deep, amused voice added. Harry smiled at Dean Thomas, took note of the hint of interest that flickered in his warm brown eyes, and nodded.

The rest of the lunch hour, which turned out not to be very long at all, was spent chatting. None of the group reacted badly upon learning Harry's sexuality; in fact, Dean looked positively delighted, and Ron let out a loud, "Oh, thank God!" before he could stop himself, causing everyone at the table to burst into laughter, except Hermione, who looked clueless and confused.

The group parted on generally amicable terms and headed back to school in their respective vehicles. The rest of the day passed rather quickly for Harry; psychology with a batty instructor named Trelawney who spent most of the hour telling him that he was suffering from all sorts of terrible mental illness in front of the entire class (Ron, who sat behind him and snickered quietly the whole time, made it nearly unbearable); French with a small, energetic teacher named Flitwick; study hall with Mr. Black, whom Harry instantly took a liking to, and who spent the period telling a long, hilarious story about illegal fire works and the consequences of setting them off while smashed out of his mind; and P.E. with Ms. Hooch and a younger man named Oliver Wood. P.E. was, by far, his favorite class of the day—not only did Harry love any and all sorts of sport, but he also had the class with Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, and Neville, not to mention the delectable Draco Malfoy. He watched Malfoy play basketball the entire period, admiring the sinuous way his body moved as he swerved and thwarted the other players' every moves, absent-mindedly laughing at the raucous jokes Seamus was making and not doing much of anything physical, himself. Malfoy ignored him, even when Harry managed to catch his gaze in passing and leered at him lustily.

This didn't deter him, however. If anything, it excited him. _The chase is on_, he found himself thinking.

When the final bell rang, Harry met Hermione outside of the girls' locker room and couldn't help but feel pleased and somewhat responsible for the deliriously happy look that she wore. "Good day, then?" he asked lightly.

"The best, Harry, the absolute best," she assured him, throwing her arms about his shoulders and grinning into his neck. She released him after a few bone-crushing moments and positively beamed. "You're coming over tomorrow morning to help me pick out the next outfit, right?"

"Of course, love. Wouldn't miss it for the world." They stopped by his locker, and after looking up the combination, he dragged his battered skateboard from its depths and they continued toward the parking lot entrance.

"I'm exhausted," Hermione admitted, sighing. "This felt like my first day of school as well. I had no idea that people were so tiring."

Harry laughed. "Ah, you'll get used to it. You sort of build up an immunity, and before you know it, you'll be partying day and night, chugging energy drinks and running about like a loon."

Hermione looked horrified. "I certainly won't! I have two exams to study for tonight, and I plan to get at least twelve solid hours of sleep in order to be fully rested for tomorrow."

Harry hid his smile. "I was just kidding, Mione. I'll doubt you'll ever turn into a carbon copy of me. Though I must admit, I'm quite worn out myself."

Hermione fished around in her pocket for her keys, nodding. "I'll bet you'll be glad to get home and have a nap, huh? That's what I'm doing."

Harry shook his head regretfully and dropped his board to the asphalt, pulling his jacket tighter to his frame in the chill winter breeze. "Actually, Mione, I'm headed into town. I'll try to give you a call later tonight, alright?"

Hermione stopped walking and looked at him in surprise, keys dangling from one hand. "You don't want a ride home?"

"Nah, I'm off to find myself a job," he replied, planting one foot on his board and pulling out his Newports. With a quick flash of a smile in his new friend's direction, he pushed off, narrowly but expertly avoiding a flashy BMW as it roared out of the parking lot and faintly hearing Hermione's indignant, "Well, _bye_ then! Geez!"

Humming to himself, Harry picked up the pace, waving innocently at the BMW's angry series of honks.

**Response for the Reviews (condensed version):**

**SuciaBonita: Eeek. Please don't die. I'm feeling much better, thank you...**

**Savage Amazon: I'm glad I could motivate you to sign up for fanfic, if only to review my story )which is even more flattering, mind you). There is no rape, and I didn't mean to imply it. Just varying degrees of physical abuse. Thank you for the review!**

**vote-larry4prez: I'm all about setting the standards, lol. And he's not only in your mind, but mine as well--I can picture him perfectly. Thank you!**

**Daemon Queen Lilith: Oh my gosh! I completely forgot about Luna, and your review reminded me...I'm going to shove her in there somewhere soon! Heh, thanks!**

**Night: I'm glad you got the chappies, and hope you get this one as well!**

**LJMharry: I have no idea how many chapters this will be. To be honest, I don't even know where the hell I'm going with it. Here's hoping for the best, though, and good luck with your story! Thank you.**

**Jazzylady: I don't know for sure, but I'd say sometime in the next two or three chapters. Thanks!**

**Madizon: That was one of the nicest reviews I have ever gotten--thank you very much.**

**ura-hd: The Vernon-Harry interaction is particularly difficult for me to write. I'm trying to make it seem harsh, yet easily hidden. I plan to have several people discover the truth, however, and I don't know if Vernon will be charged yet. Any advice would be welcome, and thanks for reviewing!**

**Rit-Globe: Harry had some money saved from his job in Surrey, and he had several cartons of cigarettes saved up. I'm forcing him to get a job, though--he's running low on cash and Newports. Thanks!**

**atlantis: Actually, I took that line from something I myself am frequently telling my friends. Lol. Thanks!**

**Kuramalovergirl15: Lol, no, the Grangers aren't going to adopt Harry, but Hermione will find out about the abuse. Thank you for reviewing.**

**non-descript-personl, Dragon Smile, amber-eyez456, The Angsty Gothic Angel, LenJade, SnakeTalker, charlle, asphyxiation1013, DreamersDisease, Rin Kanzaki, elvengoddess696, emedragon, HPDM-Slash-Rocks, Danish Girl, Angels Whisper, blackreflectednightmare, zoomaphonethepirate, gothic-looser, D EDMUN, Sezza Ridka, theTigersFire, Slash-Lover, Hawkenten, Faren'sFowl, FlamencoPenguin, Keeyan, driven to insanity, ISC, Crystal Moon Dragon, Bibilien, cottoncandy, Dea Puella, Mistress Vamp, magic-shield, lita-2003, fudgebaby, angelkitty77, Raven's Light, Squirrelswillrule, and Sandalino Silvio Leif:**

**Thank you all, and I am deeply, deeply sorry that Idon't havethe energy or the health to respond to everyone individually. The next few chapters might continue in this vein, and for that I apologize...**

**A/N #2: A question for my reviewers: Out of curiousity, how many of you are male? I just keep imagining a load of pretty gothic fangirls...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: And chaper nine is now up. Thank you for your patience, and once AGAIN, I apologize for the condensed reviews at the end of this. If any of you are offended by this, please let me know in your next review, and I will be sure to respond to you individually again. I am feeling much better, and I think I may be falling into a more regular pattern of updates. I have, apparently, a single male reviewer-nice guy, might I add. I adore you all!**

"Asshole," Draco muttered heatedly, glaring at Potter's rapidly diminishing form in his rearview. He slouched down in the seat and floored the accelerator. Beside him, Pansy let out a little squeal.

"_Drake_! Slow down! I'd like to make it home in one piece, okay?"

Draco ignored her and shifted gears. The BMW roared forward and he blasted through a yellow light just as it turned red, gritting his teeth. Today had been a bad day—listening to people ramble on and on about the new kid, that impudent prick _hitting_ on him, as if he, Draco _Malfoy_, were some kind of fag, and then staring at him all throughout gym class like some sort of pervert…

A sudden blare of sirens made him glance into the rearview again, and he cursed as he spotted the police cruiser hot on his ass.

_Could this day **get** any worse? _he wondered bitterly as he began to pull over.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Two hours later, Harry Potter was absolutely livid.

Muttering to himself and completely unaware of the strange picture he presented, he shot down the sidewalk on his skateboard, casting dark looks at the few residents crazy enough to brave the biting winds for a bit of window browsing. His unique sense of fashion, combined with the brooding glare—barely tapered by his cold-reddened nose and cheeks—sent people scurrying out of his way without protest.

He'd attempted to apply for six different jobs, three of which were at shops displaying 'Help Wanted' signs in their front windows. At each store, the managers had watched him with disdainful eyes as he filled out the applications, and each had informed him, with frosty attitudes and what Harry was coming to think of as horrendous American accents, that the store was no longer in need of assistance and that they would be sure to call him if the situation changed anytime soon.

"Hel-_lo_!" Harry called out now, to the world at large, zipping through a crosswalk an instant before a line of cars came barreling through. "I have a charming English accent, you wankers! I could sell your pathetic shit like genuine diamonds in a fuckin' dime store!" He nodded furiously at a startled passerby and launched himself onto a curb, still ranting. "Okay, so _maybe_ I look a little different! Variety is _good_, you bloody fools! _Variety is the spice of life!_"

Preoccupied with fuming as he was, Harry didn't see the fire hydrant until it was too late.

With a breathless, un-Harry-like shriek, he tried to swerve, but the edge of the skateboard clipped the metal monstrosity, and, flailing, he did a spectacular mid-air somersault and landed flat on his back. His board clattered into the street upside-down and came to rest, wheels still spinning. Silence descended. Across the way, a pair of bundled shoppers gaped at this amazing display of clumsiness.

"Urrg," Harry muttered as new bruises began to blossom atop the old ones. And then he began to laugh.

Honestly, it was just too ridiculous: here he lay, spread-eagle, the filthy damp of the sidewalk beginning to seep through his clothes—a boy out of his element, to be sure. It stuck him as utterly hilarious, and when he turned his head and happened to catch sight of the forlorn skateboard sitting petulantly in the middle of the worn asphalt, he cracked up and let loose with a five minute-long bout of hysterical laughter. Unnoticed, the shoppers exchanged dubious glances and scurried away.

_If only the gang back home could see me now_, he thought, and laughed harder.

Eventually, he managed to get a hold on himself and sat up, wincing through lingering chuckles. He retrieved his skateboard, pleased that it hadn't been run over while he lay on the pavement and howled like a loon, and thinking that it would have been just his luck. He paused to stretch and work out the kinks that were making themselves known in his backside.

Idly, he glanced about and was surprised to see himself standing in front of a small bookstore. He must have passed it a dozen times while skating around town in search of a job, but this was the first time he had noticed the tiny, somewhat dingy shop nestled between the dry cleaners and Melody's Diner.

He considered the sign that swung gently in the breeze for a long moment, liking the simplicity of the name: Lupin's Literature. Below the title, _Rare and Used Books at Reasonable Prices_ read in faded bold script.

Harry approached the display window and peered curiously through the dusty pane of glass. On a swath of purple velvet were three thick tomes: an ancient copy of Steinbeck's _The Pearl_, a fairly new copy of Sidney Sheldon's latest book, and a leather-bound collection of the works of Emily Dickinson. He felt his heart sigh at the Dickinson volume, and tried to ignore it; after all, he had failed horribly in finding a job, and his cash fund was depleting rapidly. But then his eye caught something else, and his shocking emerald eyes lit up with hopeful delight.

Tucked into a corner of the window, looking as if it had been there for ages, was a small, neglected 'Help Wanted' notice, warped with time and covered in cobwebs. Harry grinned to himself, forgetting his earlier disposition as if it had never existed, and bounded into the bookshop.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Draco, this is unacceptable."

Draco winced at his father's steely tone and tried to look ashamed, still seething with anger. "I know, Father. I am deeply sorry. But the cop was completely unfair and he couldn't be reasoned with—"

Lucius Malfoy spun on his heel to face his son, blue-grey eyes dark with warning. He clutched the ticket between long, elegant fingers and thrust it into the younger Malfoy's repentant face. "This is a _reckless driving_ ticket, Draco. You were going twenty-seven miles over the speed limit, and the speed limit was _fifty_. I hardly believe the police officer was unreasonable. If anything, he was lenient. It's amazing you are still in possession of your license. This is six points on your driving record, son—two more and you won't be driving until you attend several classes and turn eighteen. What on earth possesses you to drive like such a maniac?"

Draco cast his eyes to the floor. "I was in a bad mood, Father. I know it's no excuse, but I guess I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. I apologize."

Sighing, Lucius let the little yellow slip of paper flutter onto the desk and turned to look out the full-length window, which faced the private gardens and provided the only light in the dim, dark-paneled study. "This ticket is nearly three hundred dollars, Draco," he said softly, straightening his tie. "I will not make you pay it; after all, forcing you to get some sort of plebian job would be foolish and far beneath you, seeing as you will be taking my place as head of Malfoy Enterprises after you graduate from college." He glanced at his son, a younger, softer replica of himself, and felt his chest swell with pride, before doling out the sentence. "However, you are to be punished accordingly, and that means no car for a month."

"_What!_" Draco exploded before he could stop himself. "No _car_? Are you _mad_?"

"Do not question me, Draco Malfoy."

"But Father! How am I supposed to get to school?"

"Your friend Blaise has a car, does he not? A well-kept vintage Jaguar, if I recall correctly."

"But I take Pansy to and from school! What about her?"

Lucius felt his mouth curl down with distaste. He really didn't like the pug-faced Parkinson girl; over the years he had learned how to recognize a gold-digger. After all, he had married one.

"I am sure Miss Parkinson is able to find another mode of transportation—for instance, the bus. Now, Draco, I won't hear another word of this. Like I said, be glad I'm not forcing you into the demeaning position of having to get a job at some filthy, common little dive to pay for this on your own. You are dismissed."

"Yes, Father," Draco mumbled, and turned to leave the room. As the thick oak door of the study swung closed behind his son, Lucius heard Draco hiss something that sounded like "Stupid Potter." After he was gone, the elder Malfoy gazed out on the gardens, wondering, _What's a Potter? Have I just been insulted?_

_>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>_

Remus Lupin was a man whom age was kind to. His hair was a warm honey brown and the grey that had begun to streak the curling tresses made him look distinguished, as did the smile lines and the crows' feet that lined his friendly brown eyes. Of average height and build but sophisticated bearing, his presence made most feel immediately comfortable and open to sharing every aspect of their lives with him.

He'd moved to the small town of Pettigrew twelve years ago after a lifetime of a nomadic existence, and now he felt no urge to wander anymore. Seven years ago, he'd opened Lupin's Literature, which catered mostly to an older clientele and remained marginally profitable. And four years ago, he'd met Sirius Black, a resident high school teacher and the love of his life. Now he and Siri lived in a cozy loft above the bookstore, and they were both happier than they had ever been before.

Over all, Remus Lupin lived a comfortable life that offered no surprises, no twists or turns, and no deep, dark secrets.

That all changed the day Harry Potter ran giddily into his shop, a bundle of energy and nerves—and veritably teeming with deep, dark secrets.

Of course, Remus didn't know that then. All he knew was that he had a customer when the bell above the door jangled, and that he'd better get moving. It had been a slow day.

He set aside the books he'd been shelving and wound his way through the shaky towers of books with an ease of long experience. As he entered the front room, he was greeted by the sight of his customer's firm, jean-clad rear as the boy leaned down and began to rummage through a box of discounted novels by the door. He stopped, guiltily enjoying the view for several moments before clearing his throat. The boy straightened up and turned to look at the older man with a flirtatious, knowing smile. Remus felt his face flare with humiliating color; honestly, the boy couldn't have been more than eighteen, and here he was, a taken man nearly twenty years his senior, openly gaping at the teenager's ass.

"Uhh, welcome to Lupin's Literature," he said in a valiant attempt to cover his embarrassment. "Can I help you find anything in particular today?"

The boy grinned again, and Remus took a moment to admire his fantastically colored hair, glimmering bottle-green eyes, and the multitude of piercings. He had, of course, seen similar alternative fashions in his travels over the years; but he was more than a little surprised to see it now in such a place as Pettigrew.

"Actually, I'm not here for books." The boy's voice was unexpectedly deep and carried a strong, cultured English accent. Remus admired that as well before mentally admonishing himself to snap out of it.

"Oh?" he replied mildly, praying his burning cheeks went unnoticed in the dim lighting of the shop and knowing all too well that they did not.

"Yeah, I'm here about the job."

"What? The…the job?" Remus' brow furrowed in confusion. Suddenly the light dawned and he clapped his hands sharply. "The job, yes, of course!" His warm liquid eyes lit up with delight, and he chuckled, bustling behind the counter immediately.

"I take it it's still open then?" the boy asked hopefully.

"God, yes!" Remus exclaimed, sorting through the mess under the register. A moment later, with a hum of triumph, he brandished a single crumpled and coffee-stained application. He thrust it at the boy, who took it gleefully.

"A mere formality," Remus assured him. "Take it home and fill it out." He settled onto a worn leather stool behind the counter and looked the boy firmly in the eye, all trace of embarrassment long forgotten. "I'm the owner, Remus Lupin."

"Harry Potter," the boy responded, shaking the proffered hand.

"Let's hear the basics, Harry."

Harry nodded, looking happier by the minute. Taking a deep breath, he began to rattle off facts quickly.

"I'm seventeen years old and I just moved here from Surrey, England. I'm still in high school, but I'd be able to work anytime after four on weekdays and throughout the weekends. I'm a hard worker and I'm willing to do whatever you require—work the counter, clean, do stock, take inventory, organize what needs to be organized, make you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, kiss ass or kick ass—"

"Whoa, whoa," Remus interrupted, laughing. "Calm down, kid. You sound perfect for the job. Just one question," he continued, sobering. Harry hesitated, obviously holding his breath.

"Ever been convicted of a felony?" the older man asked gravely.

Harry burst out into relieved laughter. "No, sir!" he replied promptly.

Remus grinned. "In that case, welcome aboard, Harry Potter. Bring me back that application tomorrow, and you start Wednesday."

**Response for the Reviews:**

**marauders4ever: Thanks! And yes (if you couldn't tell from this chapter) that certainly was Draco's pretty little BMW.**

**catseye348: A good idea, though I may be awhile in including it. Thank you!**

**bakachan17: I'm pleased that I could do away with a cliche rebel!Harry. Thanks!**

**Unattainable Adrenaline: Hey, you liar! Lol. Don't worry, hun-I'm going at it at my own pace. Hope to talk to you soon!**

**SilverDragon161: Ah, everyone knows that true love goes hand in hand with Harry Potter. Harry will be the dominant in this story, for two reasons: 1. I'm sick of seeing submissive!Harry fics, and 2. I want to give Harry an excuse to say, somewhere along the line, "Hush up, Draco-you know you're my bitch!" Thanks for your wonderful review!**

**Vladaia: Wow-a lot of really, really clever ideas. I will be sure to work in the Hermione moshing, Ron saving, idea, for sure, because I love it! I think Ginny may be getting that piercing also, something somewhat conservative and common, like a belly ring, eh? I'll consider the Harry-Draco ideas as well, and thank you so much for everything! Email me and give me as many nifty little concepts as you want-I promise to consider everything!**

**Saber ShadowKitten: No worries-Draco won't wake up one day, go, "Holy fuck! I'm gay! I crave the cock-Harry's, to more specific!" I'm going to try to make it as realistic and angsty as possible. Thanks!**

**ura-hd: I was thinking that though Hermione finds out first, maybe Remus and Sirius could be the ones to do something about it. What do you think? Thank you.**

**Prose: I am both honored and slightly unnerved. Lol. Thanks, though!**

**Headmaster-Alex: MY ONLY MALE REVIEWER! Eeek!**

**Madizon: Honestly, I have no idea how I'm going to write Draco's venture out of the closet. Rest assured, it probably won't be pleasant…but thanks for reviewing!**

**Additional and just as important thanks to: Skyla Gerdes, Rin Kanzaki, Mimbulus, Faren'sFowl, Benjis VIP, CommaSplice, Siren of Hell, Mistress Vamp, Raven's Light, fudgebaby, DreamersDisease, Moonglow-girl, luvbug080688, Rowenna7, AbbieE, wicca-magick, Mystic Dragonsfire, SnakeTalker, driven to insanity, AllAmerican19, Goldensong, BratPrincess-187, charlle, Sezza Ridka, chocolatedemon, coriander, Lady of Snow Mt., addmoose2004, DanishGirl, Hacen Necah, gothic-looser, vote-larry4prez, Iori 0.o, magic-shield, itsasledgehammer, angelkitty77, Shinchansgirl, theTigersFire, Hawkenten, Aveeno-Baby, and Crystal Moon Dragon.**

**A/N 2: Okay, that's it, y'all. (I love that word: y'all...heh.) Like what you've read? (Hopefully!) More to come! Review review review, darlings.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay...well, I know this took a long time. But I hope it's been worth the wait, and I'd like to thank those of you who've had the patience to deal with it instead of sending me reviews that threaten my well being...ahem. Anyway. I'd like to say, first of all, that I know very little about soccer, but I refuse to do research for a fanfic, which I've been writing just for fun. So if I've messed up positions and the whatnot...deal with it. Feel free to correct me, but I doubt I'll change anything...because...I don't care enough **

Chapter Ten

"Christ, Hermione. You should be damned grateful that I come over every morning to help you with this. Honestly, those pants and that blouse? What are you thinking?" Harry shook his head disapprovingly, eyeing the cream yellow trousers Hermione had chosen to wear with her bright green turtleneck. While she flushed and muttered something insulting under her breath, he began to rummage through her closet until he came upon an identical turtleneck in brown. He tossed it at her and looked away as she pulled off her earlier choice.

"I thought the green went perfectly," she said from behind him, voice muffled by the sweater.

"Which is why I'm here," Harry replied, glancing down at his own perfectly matching clothes, "to tell you that you thought wrong."

"Thanks, I guess," Hermione scoffed, checking her hair in the mirror. She pushed a few stray strands into place and grabbed her purse off her dresser. "Ready?"

"As ever."

"So how's work going?" she asked as she backed the Wrangler out of the driveway carefully.

"Bloody awesome," he crowed, digging out a fresh pack of Salem Black Labels from his coat pocket. Remus had been throwing in cartons of cigarettes along with his weekly pay, and every week Harry received different brands. Some were horrible, like the 305s he'd gotten his second week, but some were even better than his beloved Newports, like the vanilla cloves and the Salems. He looked forward to the experience more than he looked forward to his minimum wage.

"Remus is the greatest," he continued, cranking down the window and lighting up. "If he were like, twenty years younger, I'd grab him like _that_. Fortunately or unfortunately, I think I'm beginning to see him as a sort of father figure, so whatever. He pays me on time, he gives me my fags, he tells the best dirty jokes—he's just really cool. I'm so lucky to have scored such a job, you know?"

"I've heard rumors that he's gay," Hermione supplied. Weeks ago, she would have said it timidly or not at all, worried that she'd offend someone. Now, she spoke as if of the weather. Harry smiled.

"He is. He has a boyfriend, and they've been together for years, but I've never even seen him. I wonder what he's like…tall, dark, and handsome, I bet. That seems like Remy's type."

"Remy?" his friend repeated, amused.

Harry shot her a look and she held back her chuckle, wisely.

Hermione crept into her usual parking spot, thinking about how quickly the month had gone by. It was only two days until winter break, and Harry had really adjusted. He was still relentlessly pursuing the blonde-haired beauty everyone considered the straightest guy in school, with no signs of discouragement at Malfoy's cold responses and occasional outright barb. He was happy at his job, and he'd made many friends. It was said that Dean Thomas had quite the thing for him, which Harry completely ignored. He'd gained a reputation for outsmarting Mr. Snape, much to everyone's delight, and his grades were passing in every class. As for herself, her popularity was sky rocketing, though not in the ruling cliché of jocks and cheerleaders—they disliked her more than ever, it seemed. She'd been spending a lot more time with Ron, and was blind to the adoration he held for her, though she felt the same for him. Overall, Hermione was happier than she could ever remember being before, and she knew that she had Harry to thank.

"—and Dean told me that soccer tryouts are after vacation, so I was thinking of giving it a go," Harry finished, apparently having been talking for awhile.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "You play soccer? I had no idea."

"Oy, I love American soccer." Harry paused to do a somewhat ridiculous little parody of kicking a soccer ball around and Hermione giggled.

"You are the strangest person I have ever met, Harry Potter."

"That a good thing?"

"The best." As the first hour bell rang, Hermione leaned forward and gave Harry a brief, warm hug. "I'll see you later, Harry. Are you working today? I'd like to hang out."

"I am, but if you'd like to stop by the store around eight, we could go out for a cup at the Java Hut."

"Sounds great. Bye!" Hermione dashed off, eager to get to class, as always. Harry smiled and began to make his way to history.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > 

Harry was having a wonderful day that included acing his chemistry test and making Snape seem the fool, and flirting wildly with Dean, for no particular reason. It felt good to flirt, even if it was with someone he considered just a friend; honestly, he hadn't expected Malfoy to be so hard to crack, but that poor boy was, in Harry's opinion, so deeply oppressed in his bland, wealthy suburban life that he wasn't just _in_ the closet—he was buried so deep he was suffocating. Luckily for Draco, Harry had always had a bit of a hero complex, and was more than willing to save him.

So Harry was in a good mood, his usual loud, charming self, by the time P.E. rolled around.

He never did much of anything in P.E., because everyone was always playing basketball, a sport he was less than fond of. His other option was dodge ball, and though he rather enjoyed whacking people with kick balls, he didn't like getting whacked himself. Therefore, every class thus far was spent huddled in a corner of the ridiculously cold gym, chatting with his friends and eyeing Malfoy suggestively, making no attempt actually participate.

But when Harry entered the gym today, he was surprised to see that the basketball hoops had been removed and Ms. Hooch was standing in the middle of the court, waiting for the rest of the class to file in. She was cradling a soccer ball. Harry began to bounce around excitedly, earning more than a few indulgent looks.

"All right, settle down everyone!" the younger coach Oliver shouted, entering the gym. He waited until it had quieted and joined Ms. Hooch in the middle of the basketball court. "We're doing things a little differently today. As many of you know, soccer tryouts are coming up after winter vacation, for both the girls' team and the boys'. However, I'm too excited about the upcoming season to wait, and I want to see some of you who might be considering trying out play today. This is by no means a tryout—I just want to get a feel for your talents, and mull over it over vacation. I'll also be able to tell you whether to try out or not." He paused, listening to some students groan with a smile. "Don't worry; those of you with no interest in soccer don't have to play. You can watch from the sidelines, but please, no booing or taunts—let's have a respectful game, okay? Everyone who wants to give it a go, form a line."

Out of a class of twenty-nine, eight students lined up while the rest crowded to the edges of the gymnasiumSeamus, Dean, Harry, Ron, a tall, lanky girl named Katie Bell, a boy Harry had heard referred to as Terry, Malfoy, and one of Malfoy's sneering, arrogant friends, Blaise Zabini. Harry grinned manically at Malfoy, not deterred when the boy rolled his eyes and ignored him.

Oliver sighed. "Well, this isn't quite the turn out I was hoping for, but we've got enough from the other classes that this could work well enough. Teams of four, obviously—Mr. Malfoy, you're captain, and Mr. Weasley, you, too. Ready?"

"Blaise," Malfoy said immediately.

"Harry," Ron continued.

"Terry."

"Seamus."

"Ugh…" Malfoy's face twisted as he reluctantly ground out his next choice. "The…the Thomas boy." Dean sighed dramatically, eliciting giggles from the watching crowd of students.

Ron glared at the pale boy. "Katie," he hissed, obviously put out at having one of his best friends on the opposing team. Katie Bell flashed him an annoyed look as she joined the small team.

"Alright; usually, I'd allow you to work out a game plan; however, I want to see how you cope with your teammates without any advance planning. So…Mr. Potter, Mr. Boot, center 'field', please. Everyone else, try to position yourselves as best you can with such minimal players."

Harry practically ran to the center of the court. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline thrumming through his veins, the thrill of the game he loved and hadn't played in months. He offered his hand to Terry, who was looking at him with a somewhat unfriendly eye. After a moment of hesitation, the other boy took it, squeezing a bit too hard. Harry's grin only widened, unnerving the smaller boy.

The silence of the gym was broken by Ms. Hooch's whistle.

Harry's foot shot out and slammed the soccer ball past a startled Terry. Expertly, he weaved around his opponent and began tapping the ball across the court, following with a speed that was surprising to those around him. Gym sneakers squeaking across the polished floors, he breezed past several desperate attempts to stop him as he headed for the goal. Zabini watched him with wide eyes, hands held up and ready to catch the ball. Laughing, Harry allowed some distance between the ball and himself before sliding forward with a solid kick. The ball whizzed over the goalie's head and hit the net with a satisfying smack.

He paused to do a small victory dance before the ball was tossed back and the game began in earnest.

Over the next hour, Harry discovered that Draco Malfoy was a mean soccer player. He was good, and didn't refrain from using dirty tricks to get control of the ball. Harry was delighted with the look on his obsession's face, however, as Harry ran circles around him, never once succumbing to the vicious elbows and conveniently placed feet that Malfoy liked to shove out. At first, the aristocratic athlete's face was a mask of disbelief; as the game went on, it dissolved into pure fury.

With help from his teammates, Harry had nearly complete control of the ball throughout the game, scoring again and again. By the time Ms. Hooch blew her whistle, Ron's team had won by far, and Malfoy's team was torn between reluctant respect and seething anger.

Harry was perspiring lightly and panting, cursing the cigarettes that were weakening his lungs while knowing he wouldn't be quitting any time soon. Through his wheezes, he managed to smile at the cheering crowd, nodding at Ron, who was jumping up and down and yelling about the best plays he'd ever seen. Dean was gazing at him with something like worship in his eyes, and Oliver looked at though he'd seen the second coming of Christ. Shaking his head, the coach seemed to dispel some of his awe and proceeded to scream for silence.

When the gym was more or less quiet, Oliver grinned so broadly, it seemed as if his face might split. "Mr. Potter—please, for God's sake, _try out_. I've never seen anyone your age play as you just did. I definitely need you to be my main forward striker."

"I'd love to," Harry huffed, delighted and still gasping for his stolen breath.

"Mr. Weasley," Oliver continued, "I'd like you to try out, as well—maybe for a defender? You, too, Mr. Thomas, for midfielder. Miss Bell, you'll have to speak with Miss Hooch about your game after class, because she's in the charge of the girls' division, but you played very well. Mr. Malfoy, this was by far not your best game. However, I know you're a good, solid forward, and I know you'll be trying out, so I'll be looking for to you after vacation. Mr. Boot, Mr. Zabini, and Mr. Finnegan—I'll need a moment to speak to you privately, after class."

Collectively, the class winced; everyone understood that they were going to be advised not to try out, no matter how polite Coach Oliver was trying to be about it.

The bell rang, and the class rushed off to their respective locker rooms, Harry's friends chatting about the moves they he had used and how excited they were to have Harry on the team. Though he tried to protest, with false modesty, that he hadn't made it yet, no one was willing to listen and overrode him.

Most of the boys decided to just get changed and head off to the Java Hut for a celebration, but Harry begged off. "I have work in half an hour, and I'd like to take a shower first," he explained apologetically. Protests filled the locker room but Harry held firm, and soon they gave up, filing out with cheerful grins and high fives.

Finally alone, Harry stripped and headed for the shower room, which he had so far avoided using out of a strong need for privacy. Since he was the only one in the room, though, and needed to get to work fast without smelling disgusting, he didn't have much of an option.

He sighed in bliss as hot water cascaded down his body, just standing there for a moment. He reached for a bar of soap and began to sing loudly.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

After changing, Draco slipped into a bathroom stall, grimacing at the filth of the cubicle. He listened as Potter protested and stayed behind; he listened as everyone filed out; he listened to the rustle of Potter's clothes as they were dropped onto the bench. Finally, the sound of the shower being turned on filled the locker room, almost immediately drowned out by Potter's horrible, off-key singing. Then, Draco emerged from the stall, trademark smirk firmly in place.

Walking quietly, he made his way to the edge of the open showers, planning on giving Potter first the scare, then the most blistering, degrading string of insults, of his life. Nobody humiliated a Malfoy like Potter had today, and he had to pay. So what if Potter had played better than he had? He was having an off day, and that—_that_ was the only reason Potter had beaten his team almost single-handedly.

Or at least, that was what Draco was trying to convince himself.

"Well, well, well," Draco hissed venomously, morbidly pleased when the green-haired boy spun around in surprise and cursed when he almost lost his footing. "If it isn't Potter—what a pleas…pleas…ant…"

Whatever insult he had been planning on delivering turned to mush in his mouth as he realized, with a mix of utter dismay and guilty lust, that Harry Potter was naked.

Why hadn't he thought of this beforehand? Why—_why_—hadn't he stopped to think for one fucking _second_ that he was about to confront Potter when the boy was completely without clothes?

Naked.

Naked and soaking wet.

Naked and soaking wet, and absolutely, impossibly beautiful.

With a horrified start, Draco realized three things simultaneously: First of all, he was staring avidly at all he could see of Potter…which was _everything_. Second, Potter was grinning, and it wasn't friendly so much as predatory.

And third of all, Draco realized that, despite his best intentions, he was becoming very obviously and very rapidly aroused.

**Responses for Reviews:**

**chekiita: I've yet to mention it, but Dudley is attending the local private school, because the Dursleys consider their precious boy too perfect for the "filth" of public school. As for Draco...I'm working on it. I didn't start this fic with a plot, so I'm sort of making it up as I go along. A great question, and thanks for your review!**

**Dahlias: Sorry, but I can't figure out how to fit the whole godfather thing in. Maybe later, when Harry leaves the Dursleys and goes to live with Sirius and Remus, the godfather role will come into play. Thanks for your awesome review.**

**OneMomentInTime: Directing? Hmm...I do enjoy yelling...and ordering people about...but no one would take me seriously because I'm a tiny little girl with funky hair and a bizarre fashion sense Thank you, though!**

**Kuramalovergirl: Sirius didn't know the Potters, and they never lived in the town. Sirius and Harry have already met, in an abstract way, because Sirius is Harry's study hall teacher. Thanks!**

**Ms-Wood: O.O So many demands, and so many I'm afraid I cannot comply with...sorry, darlin'!**

**novalights: YAY! My...third male reviewer! 3**

**Vladaia: Isn't AP a pain? I'm taking three this year, and while I love them...I hate them. If that makes any sense. Consider yourself revered, because when I respond to my reviews I usually delete them, but I'm saving yours because of all the fantastic possibilites you've brought to light. Muchas gracias!**

**Tubs...and Orlin: Wow, thanks to the both of you. I had to read through your review twice, trying to understand if you really were two people or if you were indulging in some sort of MPD. Lol, thanks!**

**HeadMaster-Alex: So what color did you dye your hair? You never talk to me on MSN anymore, you butthead! And, as always, thanks for your lovely review **

**xAnonyxMouseyx: You have my permission to quote anythinganything at allfrom my story and my review responses. I consider it the ultimate form of flattery!**

**misfit2008: Oh, wow, that's horrible. I know that nothing I can say will make this better, but I really hope everything turns out okay. Thank you for taking the time to review during a difficult time in your life.**

**yami-spirit: Holy shit, my FOURTH male reviewer! This is getting pretty intense. And you are the only one to have admitted you're gay. I would follow that little comment with something along the lines of, "Well, any guy that reads Harry Potter slash -must- be gay," but hey, I'm a lesbian and I'm reading this stuff. (No interesting female leads in HP, doncha know.) Thanks for reviewing, wonderful fourth male reviewer!**

**CherryStained: I did try to give Harry a personality (a lot like mine actually, minus the abuse, the talent, and the whole...guy thing). I love punk-Harry and hate a Harry without personality, or worsepure angst-Harry. I don't really know of any fantastic punk-Harry fics, however. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Madizon: Getting bettersurgery next month (eek) and then poof, no more problems and more regular updating! Thanks for the review, and for your concern. Drop me a line, email-wise, sometime.**

**Unattainable Adrenaline: Yep, Draco's the sub. Harry is, of course, the dom. Written anything else lately?**

takes a deep breath-

**Also, thanks to:**

**Savage Amazon, MorganEddasil, Katbell, Miss Moonlight, Kathy stgqvk, ura-hd, the person with no name, RavenEcho, MHSO2, Marakida, Prongsblack, Eliie37, Goldensong, Sakura of the Hp world, deathless one, darkangelfrmhell, ak-alterego, Benjis VIP, DariaStarr, skimmie, tatil, Keladry6, Indigo931, lampshadesrgreat, amber-eyez456, Mimbulus, TomFeltonFan-16, theTigersFire, Agnus Dei, Faren'sFowl, SmangosBubbles, twin 3vll w00t, monica85, SilverDragon161, Spideria, luvbug080688, Slash-lover, Rin Kanzaki, Hawkenten, itsasledgehammer, Prose, Driven to Insanity, Angels Whisper, lita-2003, DanishGirl, cuteandnice, saylie rain, wicca-magick, coriander, Lady Slone of Snow Mt, fudgebaby, Crystal Moon Dragon, Rise From Thy Ashes, vote-larry4prez, shinchansgirl, Mistress Vamp, Raven's Light, and last but not least, dea puella.**

**A/N #2: Allow me to clear one thing up: Sirius is NOT Harry's godfather. At least...not YET.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, guys. My computer finally and completely died. I lost all of my personal files and am unable to retrieve them. This means I have lost all of my reviews, which were saved into a special file, as well as my responses. I finally got a new computer, and I had to go onto fanfiction and copy and paste all of my own stories into a new Word program, which I have discovered is not compatiable with fucking fanfiction, so I then had to paste it all into Notepad or whatever the fuck it is. I am rather pissed right now. I also lost two future chapters of Stonewall High, and rewrote this one in a fit of rage. If it doesn't make sense, if it doesn't mean your expectations, if it just plain sucks--whatever. I did my best.**

...Okay. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be nasty. I love you all.

Hope you enjoy this...

Chapter Eleven

After pausing to get over the initial shock, Harry smiled broadly, completely aware that he was naked, and that Malfoy was staring at him with wide, fiery eyes. The ice had melted.

Oh, could this day get any better? Harry wondered, slowly moving out of the shower's spray and towards Malfoy.

"Malfoy," he all but purred, "what a pleasant…surprise. Care to join me?" He realized, belatedly, that he might be acting too forward, but he couldn't help himself, and it was too late to go back now.

Harry could see Malfoy struggling for his infamously effortless composure. "F-fuck off, Potter. I-I just came to tell you…to tell you that what happened today was pure luck on your part. I'm better than…than you, got it? I'll always be…better…" And here he lost his battle and his eyes drifted downward along Harry's body.

"Really?" Harry whispered, his voice almost lost in the thunder of the shower. "Are you, Malfoy? Are you above me?" He advanced on the blonde boy, still smiling, eyes bright from beneath his dripping hair. "Because I'm not so sure about that. In fact, I think we're equals." His smile turned into a smirk when Malfoy stumbled back a few steps, looking confused and lost and sexy as hell. "Think about it," he continued. "We're both competitive. We're both intelligent. We're both looking for fulfillment. We're both bloody gorgeous. We're very, very similar, really. We'd probably get along rather well, don't you agree?"

"No!" Malfoy snapped, looking torn, ready to bolt for the door, ready to throw Harry down onto the floor and have his wicked way, ready to beg for mercy, ready to threaten. He chose the latter. "You stay away from me, Potter. Do you hear me? You stay away."

Harry paused and cocked his head. "Do you really want me to?"

"Yes!" the other boy hissed, curling his arms around himself in a strangely vulnerable gesture. "Yes, stay away from me, God, just _stay away_."

Harry glanced down at Malfoy's rather obvious erection pointedly. "Okay," he replied after a beat of silence, and returned to the showers without protest.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Draco stood gaping at Potter's retreating back. What the hell had just happened?

In his confusion--and for some reason, outrage--he felt the unwelcome lust begin to drain away and the logic return to his brain. He looked around the locker room aimlessly, knowing it was the perfect time to make a clean escape, yet remained unmoving. Inexorably, his gaze turned to Potter again, his form almost lost in the steam from the shower.

Honestly! What the _hell_ had just happened? Had Potter really given up on pursuing him? Had Potter, just like _that_ given up on the come-hither smiles, the secret little winks, the longing looks cast from across crowded rooms? Would he never again catcall to Draco when he passed him on the sidewalk on that goddamned skateboard of his, never again make obscene gestures and frankly hit on him when they happened upon each other in private?

Was that all it had taken? A simple "go away"? Draco was stunned, and hardly realized it when he spoke.

"That's it?" he whined over the shower. Immediately, he clapped a hand over his mouth in horror.

Potter's head emerged from the steam, face curiously blank. "I beg your pardon? What's it?"

"That!" Draco yelled, unable to help himself. "All this time, you've been harassing me, acting like a fag, trying to get into my pants, and all it took to get you to fuck off was a 'stay away'? Are you kidding me, Potter? Are you _kidding_ me?"

The top half of Potter's body followed his head and Draco felt the urge to stare returning. Stoically, he fought it, glaring into Potter's gorgeous green eyes and trying to maintain the fury he was feeling just a moment ago. It was slowly being replaced by a thick, sick swirl of hurt low in his stomach. This is stupid, he told himself. He was getting what he wanted. Potter was leaving him alone, leaving him to his girlfriend and his leisure time and his painfully dull life. This was what he'd wanted all along.

So why did it feel like someone had just punched him in the gut?

"No, I'm not kidding you," Potter was saying calmly. "For some reason or another, I like you, Malfoy. I really do. I know next to nothing about you; you've snubbed me at every turn. But I thought, apparently foolishly, that you might have some feelings within you, buried but awaiting discovery, that might allow you to return this affection. I'd have even settled for friendship. You've made yourself perfectly clear, however--you don't like me. You don't like me talking to you, flirting with you, looking at you, being within a ten foot radius of you. So I've taken the hint. I'll leave you alone. Alright?"

Potter's calm was infuriating and the hurt stabbed into him more forcefully in the face of it. Draco's face twisted at his inner turmoil, though he didn't realize it. His head pounded and his mouth pulled into a frightening grimace. "Oh, fuck you!" he suddenly screamed. Intending to storm out the door, he found himself stalking towards the shower, furious and in pain and wanting nothing more than to pound Potter's wide-eyed face in.

It was Potter's turn to stumble back, looking ridiculous, naked with green hair and smudged eye makeup, holding up an arm to ward off the attack that was obviously coming. Draco strode through the spray, uncaring that his designer silk shirt was getting wet, uncaring that water filled his Doc Martens instantly. He nearly fumbled when he saw the boy up close, noticed his should- be perfect body was marred with bruises and faded scars, and with what could have been a tattoo. More metal glinted at his chest and stomach--piercings again. But his rage was too much and he ignored this all. Potter opened his mouth to speak, but stopped with a surprised gasp as Draco grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him close, until their faces were nearly touching.

"I hate you, you stupid fuck," Draco whispered. "I _hate_ you!"

And suddenly, their mouths were shoved together, violent and hateful and needy, tongues battling for dominance as Draco shoved the other boy hard against the tiled wall. Potter responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Draco's slender back and crushing him to his own body. Their hands were everywhere, touching and grasping and groping frantically in all the right places, as if they had done this a thousand times before, a million times before. They didn't pause for breath; they didn't pause to think. They didn't pause for anything.

Somehow, they ended up on the floor, with Potter on top, tearing at Draco's shirt impatiently. The scalding water pounded down on both of them, and neither cared. The floor was hard, uncomfortable, and dirty. Neither noticed as Potter's head ducked down, teeth nipping at the blonde boy's exposed chest hungrily while his hands worked on his belt buckle with the ease of much experience.

Draco was in ecstasy, head thrown back, eyes closed, just feeling. He loved the touch of those long fingered hands, calloused and perfect against the pampered soft of his own flesh. He loved the feel of the slim, hard body bearing down on his own. He loved the toned clenching of the other boy's shoulder muscles beneath his own strong hands. He had been wrong: this…this is what he had wanted all along. This was perfect. This was everything.

Distantly, he heard the sound of a zipped being hastily undone. "Oh, God, yes, yes, yes, please, please, Harry, just like--"

And suddenly, the sound of his own voice made him aware of what was happening; completely and utterly aware of what he was doing, of what he was about to do.

He was about to have sex with another boy.

"No!" he shouted, not liking the panicky, hopeless sound of his own voice. He shoved a startled Harry Potter off of him and scrambled off the floor, nearly hyperventilating. "No, no, no," he repeated, clutching the remnants of his shirt to his chest, holding up his jeans, and nearly in tears. He couldn't look at Potter; he couldn't stand the sight of him, sitting dazed and confused, undeniably naked and aroused, on the locker room floor.

So he did the only thing he could. He fled.

Praying no one was around, he ran through an empty gym and into the school. Unwilling to take chances, he darted into the nearest bathroom, and now he was crying, in great, hysterical sobs. He stumbled to a halt in front of a mirror and began to cry harder when he saw his reflection. He was a mess. His shirt was in tatters, his pants undone. His usually perfect hair hung about his flushed face in dripping tangles, and oh, how he _hated_ Harry Potter for doing this, how he _hated_ him.

Malfoys did not like boys. Malfoys were perfect, power hungry, and straight. Malfoys didn't cry. Malfoys didn't almost have sex on locker room floors.

"I am a Malfoy," he told his reflection, willing back the tears. "I am a Malfoy, and this is not me. This was a mistake. This is not me." The sound of his own voice, hitched and unsteady, nonetheless helped him to gain control. He did his best to fix his hair and his clothes, and when he was done, he could see his usual, fathomless self in his reflection, battered but possessed.

But the hurt was still there, the need and the want, the empty feeling of pretending to be someone he wasn't. And looking into his own eyes, he knew he would never be the same.

And it was all Harry Potter's fucking fault.

**A/N#2: Well? Sorry about the reviews, guys. I really am.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Warning: This chapter is just filler. I felt bad that I haven't updated in forever, but I've been crazy-busy, and this is just crap to tide over my poor readers until I can really sit down and crank out another ten or fifteen pages. So I'm apologizing ahead of time. Also, I have recieved several bits of advice from friends saying that I'm not supposed to responding to reviews on my chapters. Does anyone know if this is true? And finally, does no one read my damned Author's Notes? HARRY IS DOMINANT! I will never again answer this question.**

Harry sat on the floor of the shower for several minutes, recuperating. After awhile, he stood up, finished showering, and got dressed. On the way to work, lost in his own thoughts, he ran through several busy intersections, nearly getting himself killed in the process and barely noticing.

He went through the motions at work, chatting with the customers in a façade of cheerful friendliness and joking around with Remus. He knew his act, though nearly flawless, did not slide by his mentor's notice, but ignored the concerned look in Remus' eyes and shelved books, whistling an old Sum 41 song and trying not to think too much.

At a quarter till, he closed up the store and left Remus to the books, calling out a hasty goodbye when he attempted to ask the younger man what was wrong.

_Fuck you_, Harry wanted to snarl, mimicking Malfoy's earlier anger. _Fuck you. I'm fine--I'm perfectly fine, okay? I just snogged the hell out of an incredibly beautiful boy that I've been lusting over ever since the day I moved to this shitty American town, and it was fantastic. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It was better than Cedric, it was better than my whole life has ever been. And then he left, but that's fine, too, because I know he'll come back to me. How could he not? Why wouldn't he?_

He refrained from saying this, though. He just grabbed his skateboard and ran out the door, keeping an eye out for Hermione's Wrangler. And sitting on the curb, away from the streetlights, he knew he should be happy. He knew he should be ecstatic, because Draco Malfoy _would _come back to him. Not immediately, of course. No, it would take time for Malfoy to realize the true extent of what had happened, to accept it. And when he did, Harry would be there, waiting with open arms and no judgment whatsoever.

Yes, he had freaked out. Yes, he had basically run screaming from the room. But Harry knew that Malfoy had to come to terms with what he was, or live a life of misery. And since Draco Malfoy struck him as a person to whom personal well-being was the most important thing in life, Harry doubted he would remain in denial much longer. So shouldn't he be pleased? Shouldn't he be anticipating the day that Malfoy came to him with need in his eyes and an unsure smile?

Harry had a terrible feeling that it wouldn't be that easy. Something…something was going to happen before that day ever came. If it ever came.

Brooding, he lit a cigarette from a crushed and slightly stale pack of Newports. Whenever he needed comfort, he always returned to his trusty Newports, much as he enjoyed the other brands Remus had been giving him. The crisp burn of menthol seared his throat, and he sighed, relaxing. His gaze drifted up to the early winter stars, and he found himself smiling at their bright presence. "Ah, what's wrong with you?" he whispered to the crowded sky, to the deserted street, to himself. "Everything's good. Everything's working out. You'll manage, just like you always do, Wonder Boy. Calm down, smoke your fag, and appreciate your leisure time." The sound of his voice drifting through the chill evening air made him shiver.

A few minutes later, Hermione parked carefully next to the curb, and Harry saw her squinting in his general direction. He got up and crushed the cigarette under his heel, looking forward to a night at the Java Hut, surrounded by friends and laughter and general chaos. He needed it.

"Hallo, Mione," he greeted as he slid into the car, already digging for a pack of Salems. "Off to the Hut, eh?"

"Yep," she said, pulling away from the curb with all the enthusiasm of a half-blind, eighty year old woman. Harry had been nagging her about her overly careful driving methods since she'd met him, but she still hadn't picked up the pace any.

"How was your day? Besides the totally awesome soccer game, I mean."

Harry barely hesitated. "It was great, of course. Aced my chem exam, aced the match, and it helped that I'm in my usual fantastic mood." Hermione smiled, and the rest of the short ride was spent talking about the situation between Ron and herself.

"Open your bloody eyes, Hermione!" Harry was saying loudly after they had parked and were walking towards the Java Hut. "He fancies you! No, it's more than that--he adores you, he worships you, he loves to be around you, he wants to get into your pants--what more do you need? It's so fucking obvious that it's sickening! Ask anyone!"

"Harry, hush! People will hear you!"

"I don't care! Why should you?" Harry stopped in the middle of the street outside of the coffee shop and raised his face to the sky. He cupped his hands around his mouth and began to scream, "_Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley hold a painfully obvious and mutual affection for one another and they should just bloody fu--_" before Hermione tackled him with her full weight. He hit the ground under her with a startled yelp. She began to flail wildly, smacking him and scolding him sternly at the same time.

Laughing, he grabbed her fists and flipped her under, so that he was the one on top. "Mione!" he cried as she bucked and nearly threw him off. He glanced at the small crowd of people that had congregated at the windows to watch them and laughed harder, previous brooding forgotten. "Mione, people are staring!"

Hermione stilled immediately, and even in the early winter dark, he could see the customary blush that spread across her cheeks. "Get off, you jackass!" she hissed, trying to hold in what she considered to be inappropriate laughter. Harry had no such constraints and clambered off, still chuckling. The hand he held out to help was smacked away and Hermione scrambled inelegantly to her feet, frowning down sadly at her trousers.

"Look, they're all dirty," she whined, gesturing to the gray smudges that were now smeared across the creamy silk. Harry glanced down at his own faded blue jeans and red Bauhaus shirt, sighing when he saw the dirt that marred the cotton.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you tackled me," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, Ron will still love you, even if you do look like you just crawled out of a dumpster. Now let's go inside so you can make kissy faces at him and I can snigger quietly and make suggestive comments."

She did as she was told, muttering about foolish loudmouths and what was none of their concern. Starting to follow, Harry caught a flash of blonde so light it was nearly silver from the corner of his eye. When he turned his head, hope flaring through him almost painfully, there was no one there.

"Harry? Come on!" Trying to ignore the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry entered the café behind Hermione, forcing himself to smile jovially.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Draco shrank into the shadows as Potter's eyes passed over him and sighed in relief as the other boy entered the Java Hut. Confused but in complete control by now, Draco knew action had to be taken. Something must be done to keep Potter as far away from him as possible, and a plan was beginning to form in Draco's mind.

It would be cruel, heartless, and vicious.

It would work.

It _had _to.


End file.
